Delicate Ties (Trinity Master Book 8)

by Mari Carr

  Delicate Ties

  Trinity Masters, book 8

  Mari Carr

  Lila Dubois

  Contents

  Copyright

  Delicate Ties

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Cipher

  Read more about the world of the Trinity Masters…

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Other Books by Mari Carr

  Other Books by Lila Dubois

  Copyright 2017 by Mari Carr and Lila Dubois

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, 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 permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Kelli Collins

  Cover artist: Lila Dubois

  Created with Vellum

  Delicate Ties

  A Broadway star. An adventurous architect. And the powerful Dom determined to claim them both.

  Christian Rogers Stewart is no stranger to the stage, nor is he a stranger to the ways of the Trinity Masters. A legacy, he's grown up among brilliant, powerful people and he's more than ready to contribute to the society's noble cause when initiated as a member. However, he is blindsided when he's called to the altar by the Grand Master. First by lust for his arranged partners Charlotte and Vincent. And then by the revelation that the Trinity Masters are under attack, from within, by an insidious faction called the purists.

  At their binding ceremony, Christian, Charlotte and Vincent are given two tasks: study the web of tunnels hidden beneath headquarters and investigate a suspected member of the purists, a fellow Dom in Vincent's clubs. By day Charlotte struggles to make sense of a coded blueprint of the tunnels. By night they investigate the wealthy, powerful Dom, with Vincent guiding his new lovers into the dark and sensual world of BDSM.

  Both tasks lead the new trinity to earth-shaking discoveries. Not just about the purists, but about themselves and their own erotic desires.

  This book is dedicated to our loyal fans. Writing this series has been a pleasure thanks to your kind words, encouragement, and pleas for more.

  To all of you, we simply say…

  Nitimur in Vetitum

  Strive for the forbidden

  Chapter One

  Christian stood outside the door to room A and took a deep breath. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for, ever since he’d accepted an invitation to join the Trinity Masters when he was eighteen.

  No, he reconsidered. He’d been anticipating it even before then. Raised in a trinity family, he’d known from a very young age that his parents’ relationship was different, unique, even though he hadn’t understood exactly why.

  When he became an adult and he was offered membership to the Trinity Masters as a legacy, he realized just how special his family was. For centuries, the secret society had been working in the background, hidden in the shadows, functioning diligently to see that the United States of America remained strong. That concept had been heady to him at eighteen. And he realized as he stood on the threshold of the first day of the rest of his life, it was no less exciting now.

  Christian grinned, grateful his brother, Sebastian, wasn’t here, wasn’t able to read his thoughts. His younger brother had always accused him of being overly dramatic. Not that Christian would ever apologize for that attribute.

  He glanced down the hallway, wondering who else was waiting in the other rooms. Until the day he died, he was going to be irrevocably tied to these people, their futures intertwined with his.

  Christian couldn’t help but wonder how they would choose to live out their trinity. Would they live like his parents did—a married couple and a single “aunt”? Or would they embrace the threesome lifestyle, living together in a committed triad? In the past that wasn’t an option for members, but society had become much more accepting of alternative lifestyles of late. Nowadays, it wasn’t always necessary for threesomes to hide anymore.

  Glancing at his watch, he realized he was stalling. For better or worse, he had to walk through that door, and then the one beyond. He had to walk up to that altar and pledge his devotion to the two strangers. Christian felt the pangs of what he could only describe as stage fright. He hadn’t experienced that emotion in years.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered as he opened the door.

  The empty dressing room that greeted him was simple, elegant, and a bit underwhelming when he considered the grandeur of the hallway he’d just stepped out of. The Bat Cave, as he and Sebastian jokingly referred to it, of the Trinity Masters never failed to take his breath away. The high, arched ceilings, the marble flooring, the richly woven tapestries, and elegant coloring of the walkways spoke of wealth and prestige. It was befitting of the centuries-old society, one as old as America itself.

  He took off his clothes, internally debating whether or not he should shed his boxer briefs as well. He knew some members chose to go to the altar completely naked beneath their robes, a way of silently expressing to their spouses that they came freely and with nothing to hide. That concept appealed to him greatly.

  An actor, Christian appreciated the subtleties that could be expressed in the unspoken, be it a facial expression, the gesture of a hand or tilt of a head. He’d spent years dreaming of the day he’d walk out not onto the Broadway stage, but onto that bronze medallion set into the floor to say the most important words of his life.

  He took off his boxers and donned the black robe waiting for him. Thanks to his stalling, Christian only had another minute or two to wait before the bell rang, signaling it was time for him to leave the dressing room, not through the door he’d entered by, but a second door, one that led into the heart of the Trinity Masters.

  He had spent the past twenty years of his life standing on countless stages, and he’d experienced more than his fair share of opening-night jitters. The acting bug had bitten him when he was just eight, after he’d landed the much-coveted role of Paul Revere in some silly play his third-grade teacher had penned about the beginning of the American Revolution.

  Since then, he’d played more characters than he could recall. None of those performances held a candle to what he was feeling now. Probably because this time, he couldn’t hide behind a script or stage makeup. This time he was walking out there as himself, pledging his life to two people he’d never even met.

  The bell rang.

  “This is it,” he muttered. And then, he gave himself the same quick pep talk that had gotten him through this initial brief moment of panic before every single performance.

  “You’re Christian Rogers Stewart. You know this character. You know this part. Go own it,” he whispered to himself. Then he opened the door and walked into the altar room.

  The others had beaten him there. Once again he thought of his kid brother. If Sebastian had been present, he would have rolled his eyes and teased him for “making a grand entrance.” Christian never doubted
for a single second that Sebastian was proud of him for his accomplishments. But that didn’t mean he didn’t take his role as smartass brother seriously when it came to giving Christian shit for his overly dramatic ways and his sometimes swollen head.

  Sebastian deemed it his God-given duty to keep his big brother humble. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Christian possessed too much Stewart blood, too much pride, and yes, too much ego.

  Not that Christian would apologize for the arrogance that flowed through his veins. In order to survive in his line of work, he had to be able to put it all out there, to act like the biggest and best and the only one for the part. That was how he’d landed leading role after leading role and climbed the ranks in New York theater to claim his spot as one of the most sought-after leading men on Broadway at only twenty-eight. He had landed roles typically played by older, more experienced actors, simply because he was able to project a commanding presence on the stage, one that demanded people sit up and take notice.

  Christian took his place by the altar, claiming his seat as he studied the robes of the others there. The Grand Master—a woman—was seated in the largest chair, adorned in a gorgeous, rich robe that left no doubt of her sex. This woman, the most powerful member of their organization, was surprisingly slight.

  While he was curious as to her identity, his perusal of the Grand Master was brief. He was more interested in the other two people in the circle. One white robe, one black. So he was being betrothed to a man and a woman. Christian grinned.

  Dream. Come. True.

  The Grand Master began the ceremony. “When you joined the Trinity Masters, you made a vow. You pledged your lives to our cause and our way. The time has come for you to meet your partners, your lovers, your spouses. When I call your name, stand and remove your robe.”

  Christian tried to look deeper under the hood of the Grand Master after she spoke. Her voice was familiar, but he was struggling to place it.

  “Christian Rogers Stewart.”

  Well, he thought, here goes everything.

  Christian rose and shrugged off the robe, his face—and everything else—plainly revealed to his partners. He stood still, even as he felt their eyes on him from beneath the hoods of their robes. A million thoughts raced through his mind within the span of a single breath.

  Did they recognize his name?

  Did they find him attractive?

  Were they relieved or disappointed or intrigued or disgusted?

  “Charlotte Mead.”

  Christian didn’t recognize the woman’s name, but as she threw off her own robe, he knew it was one he’d enjoy saying for the rest of his life. Charlotte—brave woman—had opted to bare herself to them as well. She was beautifully made, not super thin, but with round hips and generous breasts. Her hair was a mass of auburn curls that puffed up now that it was no longer contained by the hood. Everything about her spoke of liveliness, energy and, given the slight grin on her face, humor.

  He had been right. So much could be revealed about a person without words. His first impression of his soon-to-be wife was that life would never be dull or sad with her.

  He returned her smile, which grew wider as he winked at her.

  One down.

  Both of them turned their attention to the other man as the Grand Master said, “Vincent Clayton.”

  Vincent removed his robe slowly and Christian sucked in a deep breath—half horror, half ohmyfuckinggod.

  If Christian had ever taken the time to create the perfect man in his mind, it would have been Vincent.

  The man was easily six foot five with the build of a New England Patriots linebacker. He possessed thick, muscular arms and six-pack abs that appeared to be chiseled from the same marble used to fashion the statues of the lions that graced the entrance to the Boston Public Library. His dark-chocolate skin looked silky smooth and soft to the touch, something the clearly alpha male probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing.

  Like Christian and Charlotte, Vincent had come with nothing to hide. Though Christian tried to keep his southerly glance quick, Vincent had caught him checking out his sizable package. The guy didn’t seem concerned that he was functioning at half-mast. Maybe more than half-mast. Hello, Mr. Well Hung.

  Of course, now that Christian had seen his partners, he was experiencing a slight thickening below the waist as well.

  He forced himself to look his new husband in the eye. Unlike Charlotte, Vincent was better at hiding his emotions. Christian didn’t have a clue what Vincent was thinking.

  And then he saw it. Vincent lifted one eyebrow as if to say “well?”

  Christian smiled and Vincent nodded, his dark black eyes softening and one corner of his mouth quirking up.

  Sixty seconds in and Christian was feeling like the luckiest man alive.

  Christian had almost forgotten the Grand Master was there until she spoke once more.

  “You now belong to one another. Stand closer together and hold out your right hands.”

  Vincent thrust his right hand forward, followed by Charlotte. Christian completed the union as he placed his on top. He felt, rather than saw, Charlotte shudder slightly. He felt it too. There was something powerful coursing through him as he held their hands.

  The Grand Master took a long gold chain from around her neck and wrapped it around their hands, binding them together.

  “A trinity marriage isn’t easy, but if you love and trust one another, you will never be alone.”

  Though she didn’t say “you may kiss the bride or husband…or other husband,” Christian got a sense from her quietness, she was giving them time to solidify this bond with a gesture.

  Vincent moved first, using his left hand to cup the back of Charlotte’s neck as he drew her to him. Their kiss was quick, but powerful. The moment Vincent moved away, Christian leaned closer, anxious to kiss their bride as well. He let it linger, wanting this first kiss to be memorable, to prove to Charlotte that he wouldn’t hold back his affection for her. They may be strangers now, but God willing, they would become best friends, lovers and—hopefully—even parents together.

  As their lips parted, Christian hesitated as he glanced in Vincent’s direction. He had a pretty good radar, and everything about Vincent was screaming straight.

  Dammit.

  So he was surprised—no, he was shocked to the very core—when Vincent used that same masculine grip to tug Christian toward him, treating him to the same intense kiss he’d just offered Charlotte. It was a fast, hot, almost glancing touch, but damn if it didn’t pack a punch.

  Christian thought the ceremony had concluded when the Grand Master unwrapped their hands. However, it appeared it wasn’t over yet.

  “Please put your robes back on and have a seat. There is more I must explain.”

  Christian had heard rumors about the binding ceremony for years. He’d even gotten a pretty good description of how it all went down from Sebastian, who had been bound to his partners, Grant and Elle, just a couple of months earlier.

  They quickly donned their robes and returned to their chairs. None of them, except the Grand Master, had their hoods up. Christian was glad to be able to see their faces, to have this chance to study them, before they were released into the wild on their own.

  “As you know, it is customary for there to be an adjustment period after the binding ceremony. In the past, it was a set time limit. However, given some recent developments, the time between your betrothal and your official wedding depends on you.”

  Christian leaned closer, wishing he could see the Grand Master’s face as she spoke. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her. And knew her well. He’d taken enough acting classes to know when someone was speaking naturally versus altering their voice. This woman was trying hard to disguise her true sound.

  “What do you mean, it depends on us?” Vincent asked.

  Christian was grateful they’d put the robes back on. Holy mother of God. Vincent clearly sang baritone. The deep, rich, m
elodious tone of his voice sent every single drop of blood in Christian’s body to his cock. He shifted in his chair and crossed his legs, praying they’d be here a little while. There was no way he could walk naturally in his current condition.

  “You will be given a task—in your case, two—to complete before the formal wedding ceremony will occur.”

  “What kind of tasks?” Vincent asked. While he suspected his expression mirrored Vincent’s confused look, Charlotte seemed to understand what was going on.

  “You mentioned this at the Winter Gala,” Charlotte said.

  Ah, well that explained it. Christian hadn’t been able to attend due to a performance. Looked like Vincent missed as well.

  The Grand Master nodded. “That’s correct. You are an architect, Ms. Mead. The Trinity Masters have recently acquired a blueprint that depicts a system of tunnels in and around the library and the church. We need you to parse the map and determine which of these tunnels truly exist.”

  Charlotte’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Wicked. Count me in.”

  Christian chuckled, but the sound was cut short when Vincent spoke again.

  “You said there were two tasks?”

  Jesus. The man needed to stop talking or Christian was going to embarrass himself, right here in front of the Grand Master.

  “Yes. The second requires a bit of delicacy. I need you to gather information about Caden Anderson.”

  Christian tilted his head. “What kind of information?”

  The Grand Master had obviously expected the question. “The Andersons are an old, distinguished family. They’ve been members of the Trinity Masters for over a hundred years, and have been trusted by the Grand Masters for many generations.”

  Her words had the ring of a prepared speech or the company line. There was a pregnant pause and then Christian watched her shoulders droop. It was a subtle but, to him, noticeable change in body language. It said “defeat,” “weariness” or maybe even “fear.” Then she straightened, shoulders back, and again Christian was struck by a sense of familiarity.