Beyond Control (Beyond, Book Two)

by Kit Rocha

  It made sense for the girl to assume that was Bren's influence instead of standard operating procedure on the O'Kane compound. "Is that what things were like with Trent in Three?"

  This time Six sipped the whiskey slowly. "If you weren't his piece of ass, you were anyone's toy," she said finally. "Bren's not the leader, but I see how the guys watch him."

  Reassurances were just words, and words meant jack shit. Lex drained her own glass. "Jasper'll be handling things while Dallas is gone. If you're not comfortable going to him and Noelle if you have any problems, then stick close to Rachel. Anyone tries to mess with you, she'll bite his dick off. Good enough?"

  Six looked up. "When Dallas brought you in to talk to me after I first got here, I thought he was running some sort of stupid game. That he was an idiot, or took me for one. But he really fucking expected it to work, didn't he? He thought I'd trust you, because all the women trust you."

  Lex gave her a slow grin. "Sometimes it takes a while, but yeah."

  A flicker of amusement crinkled the corners of Six's eyes before she schooled her features. "You really don't fight over the men? Ever?"

  "I didn't say that. People want what they want, even if other people have it." Lex paused to consider her next words. "But we don't lower ourselves. It's beneath you to chase after a man who belongs to someone else."

  Six's gaze fixed on Lex's, and she swallowed. "I wasn't chasing him. I just figured--I mean, he's the leader of Four. Even when Trent had a woman, he still took his..." Her lips twisted. "His tax."

  "Dallas gets enough ass. He doesn't need to coerce women who don't really want to fuck him."

  The younger woman flinched, but didn't try to deny it. She didn't say anything until she'd finished her second drink and offered the glass back to Lex. "I don't get the rules here, and I don't think Bren can teach me the ones I need to know. Can Rachel?"

  The truth was stark and uncomfortable. "You'll probably have to pick them up as you go along. But Rachel can get you started."

  "All right." She hesitated. "What about Bren? Do you think--?"

  Before she could finish her question, the doorknob rattled and Six's teeth clacked together. Dallas pushed open the door, his frown melting into confusion as he took in both women. After a moment of tense silence, he quirked a brow at Lex. "Everything all right in here?"

  "Fine." Lex didn't bother with a smile he would see through anyway. "Six was a little worried about Bren leaving. I told her Rachel'll take care of her."

  That cleared Dallas's expression. He patted Six on the shoulder like she was a puppy who needed encouragement before moving to pour himself a drink. "That'll be good. Rachel can put you to work in the bar."

  Six glanced from Dallas to Lex and back and barely managed to stammer out her agreement before flying out the door. It swung shut smartly behind her, and Dallas sighed and doubled the amount of liquor in his glass. "Do I want to know?"

  "Only if a little useless, impotent rage would make your day complete."

  "You okay?"

  The covers on one side of the bed were still drawn back and rumpled. Lex busied herself with straightening them. "I'm good. Everything arranged for the trip?"

  "Just about." He unzipped his jacket and edged a hand inside. "I got you something."

  It made her smile, but she had to ask. "Gift or weapon? With you, I never know."

  "Gift." He returned her smile and pulled out a black velvet bag embroidered with a familiar logo.

  "Stuart's sister." Lex took the bag and rubbed her thumb over the velvet. Stuart made exquisite leather goods, while his sister worked mainly with metal and jewelry, but sometimes they combined their efforts. "Another collar?"

  He grunted as he shrugged out of his jacket, his movements too forcibly casual to be entirely at ease. He seemed nervous, and even more so when he spoke. "Whenever the leaders meet in Two, Cerys makes us all suffer through some fancy fucking dinner party with the wives and escorts. Stuart said this'll match that fancy corset he made you a few months ago."

  She offered him a smile as she undid the strings on the pouch. "I know the one. Don't worry, we'll both look damn good."

  Dallas didn't answer, all of his attention fixed on her face as she slipped the choker free of the velvet. It was breathtaking--a wide strip of supple leather edged with lace and set not only with another pendant like the one she already wore, but also with jeweled chains.

  "It's beautiful." And it would have taken weeks to craft, if not months. She met his gaze, unable to keep the question out of her eyes. "Dallas?"

  "It'll look good on you," he replied as he sprawled out on the bed. Not exactly an answer, but not an invitation to keep asking, either. "Fit for a queen. Isn't that what they used to say?"

  "Yes." She glanced at the couch. It had been on the tip of her tongue to mention that afternoon, to open discussion about the things that had changed between them, but he obviously preferred avoidance. "I know how to handle myself at one of Cerys's gatherings."

  "I guess you do." His brow furrowed. "You don't expect trouble, do you? I thought you told me you'd made your peace with her."

  Paid her off was more like it. Lex had left Sector Two without earning a dime for Orchid House, which meant she owed them for feeding and clothing her for years. But that money could only be collected if you could be found, and Lex had managed to stay off the radar for years.

  Until the leader of the O'Kane gang had plucked her off the street and taken her under his wing. It hadn't taken Cerys long to come knocking, looking for payment, a fact that Lex had managed to keep from Dallas. If he'd known, he'd have ponied up the cash, and her pride never would have recovered. She would have become something else then, another bauble he'd bought and paid for, not a woman standing on her own feet.

  Dallas had both hands tucked behind his head, but his easy, relaxed posture was a lie. The look in his eyes had turned dangerous. "Lex?"

  "Relax." She laid the bag and collar on the bar and crawled onto the bed. "I've got no problems with Cerys."

  "Uh-huh." He extended one arm in commanding invitation. "Cerys will just have to get right with the fact that you're an O'Kane. For life."

  Lex curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder and her hand clenched in his shirt. "I don't think she's in danger of forgetting."

  His arm folded around her, tucking her close. He'd never had any trouble with the physical displays of affection, and she knew what would come next. Sure enough, his fingers drifted through her hair a moment later, absently stroking the strands.

  "I know you don't like this," he said, quiet but firm. "I don't, either. But I'll be stronger with you there, and you can read Cerys in ways I can't. It could make a difference this time, especially since one of those bastards may have been working with Trent--"

  "You're preaching to the choir, Declan." She closed her eyes. "Just...shh."

  His chest rumbled with his amused noise, but he went silent. He fondled her hair as his chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths.

  They still needed to pack. They still needed to talk. But, for now, the quiet suited her just fine.

  Chapter Seven

  No matter how many times he visited Sector Two, the one thing Dallas could never get past were the fucking angels on the ceilings.

  Every sector enjoyed its own degree of wealth. Four was no exception, and a man who kept carpenters and leather workers busy creating custom sex furniture didn't have a lot of room to judge how other people wasted money. He'd come a long way from scrabbling for food and shelter, and paying for creative sex toys was as frivolous a use of his fortune as Dallas could imagine.

  But fuck, at least he had fun with them. The painted angels just glared down at Cerys's guests in prissy judgment, which was rich, considering how the woman had amassed her fortune. No innocents here.

  The reminder made him tighten his arm around Lex's waist. "Here we go."

  "It's a party," she whispered in response. "Not a firing squad. Everyone's just gonna f
lash their feathers and compare dick sizes, and you've got nothing to worry about on either count, all right?"

  His lips twitched, trying to form into a smile that would surely ruin his glaring barbarian image. "Fine, but it's an insult to fun to call this a party."

  "You're above it all," Lex told him firmly as they made their way down the wide marble staircase to the main floor. "If you forget everything else, remember that."

  Dallas didn't know about that, but they were sure as hell at the center of everyone's attention, and he'd bet his next batch of corn liquor that no one was staring at him, not with Lex sultry and deadly at his side. The leather pants were hot, and so were the heels that brought the top of her head level with Dallas's eyes. But everyone gaped the first time they saw that corset, a masterwork of stamped leather and shining rivets. The fastenings began beneath her breasts, which were on glorious fucking display behind nothing but crisscrossing ties.

  Someday, he was going to pull a knife and slice through those taunting laces. Maybe tonight, as a reward for getting through this without pulling a knife for a different reason.

  Cerys crossed the floor, her feet silent and her lavender robes flowing behind her. The tall brunette was still stunning, her pale skin showing only the vaguest hint of lines, and a fierce intelligence sparked in her amber-colored eyes, as sharp as the calculating smile that curved her lips.

  She stopped in front of Dallas and bowed slightly. "Welcome, Mr. O'Kane."

  "Cerys." He inclined his head--as close as he was planning to come to bowing to any of these people--before tilting it in Lex's direction. "You remember Lex, I guess."

  "Of course." Her gaze lingered on Lex's throat as she held out her hand. "Alexa."

  She ignored the proffered hand. "You heard the man. It's Lex."

  "Lex," Cerys corrected, her smile widening. "Yes."

  Dallas knew what held the woman's attention. The fancy collar, the one he'd set Stuart's sister to work on the morning after Noelle's welcome party. Not a subtle symbol, dripping as it was with rubies and diamonds he'd pried out of a dozen pre-Flare trinkets. It was a statement of wealth as much as ownership, and Cerys was unlikely to miss any of it.

  Dallas laid his hand on the small of Lex's back and tried to smile without baring his teeth. "Lex has settled into being my better half. Isn't that right, love?"

  Lex focused on his mouth, a tiny, secret smile playing at the corners of her lips. "That's right."

  He wanted to kiss the hell out of her. He could probably get away with it, too--no one expected him to be polite--but something about the glint in Cerys's gaze made him hold back. Instead, he smoothed his hand to Lex's hip, splaying his fingers wide in a grip no one would mistake for anything but possessive. "Seems like most everyone's here already. No stragglers this time?"

  "Everyone arrived promptly." Cerys gestured behind her to the long table set for dinner. "No business, as usual. There's plenty of time for that. Tonight, we enjoy ourselves."

  "Always do." Spotting a familiar figure leaning against a marble column, Dallas nodded again. "Mind if I go say hello to your neighbor?"

  "You're a guest," Cerys murmured. "You do as you please." With that, she turned her attention elsewhere.

  "Dismissed," Lex teased quietly. "She has that way about her, doesn't she?"

  Dallas snorted and guided Lex past a young girl holding a tray of drinks. She was wearing a simple, gauzy gown that floated around her like a hazy promise, one that drew men's gazes as she passed. That was Sector Two in a nutshell--hazy promise. Never overt, never blunt, but always seething just under the surface of everything, from the decorations to the girls serving punch and champagne.

  The man by the column was the only one who seemed oblivious to that promise. Gideon and Mad might have been cousins, but they didn't look much alike. They both had that same relaxed smile, though, the one that made Mad so easy to trust. Dallas had seen wary men and women alike give way to Mad when he flashed that charming grin, and usually he appreciated its effectiveness.

  Not so much when it was directed at Lex, though. "Gideon. Quit ogling my woman."

  Gideon ignored him completely and kept grinning at Lex. "It's nice to see you, sweetheart. I imagine things will run a lot more smoothly with you around."

  "I know my way around Cerys's games." But the sharp look she flashed him belied the tranquil words and triggered a warning instinct in Dallas. She'd gone tense against his side, and there was no reason the leader of Sector One should present a threat to Lex.

  Even more unsettling, Gideon seemed to have no trouble interpreting the sudden tension. He sighed, and if Dallas hadn't known better, he'd swear the man looked disappointed. "Still, Lex?" Gideon asked softly. "Even with his collar around your throat?"

  She leaned in and kissed the man's cheek. "You talk too much."

  "And still manage to avoid the things that truly need saying." Gideon finally turned to acknowledge Dallas. "You're a lucky man, O'Kane. Congratulations."

  After a strained moment, Dallas let the odd comments slide. Demanding an explanation would only underscore his ignorance--a weakness he couldn't afford tonight. "Luckier every day, it seems. It's invigorating to have a lady who can keep you on your toes."

  She made a soothing noise, but a moment later a booming voice drowned it out. "O'Kane."

  Dallas turned to see Mac Fleming bearing down on them, his tailored suit a stark contrast to Gideon's denim and homespun and Dallas's own leather. The man who ran Five moved more illegal drugs than anyone else in a thousand miles, but he liked to play legitimate businessman almost as much as Cerys liked to play well-bred lady.

  The games were exhausting, but Dallas knew his own role: thug. Hopefully one they underestimated. "Fleming. Been a while."

  "Not nearly long enough, judging from your tone." The man straightened his cuffs. "Introduce me to your lady."

  Dallas would eat his own boots if there was anyone in the room who didn't know who Lex was, just like he knew Mac had a long-suffering wife pregnant with her seventh or eighth kid--Mac's way of flaunting his access to the fertility drugs that counteracted the birth control Eden fed into every available water supply. Dallas had met her twice in ten years. Mac was far more likely to show up with a sleepy-eyed mistress on his arm, some pretty, barely grown girl willing to trade her body for a high.

  Drawing Lex back to his side, Dallas bared his teeth. "Lex, this is Mac Fleming, head of Sector Five."

  Lex offered her hand. "How do you do?"

  He smirked at the equally smarmy bodyguard lurking behind him. "Manners, and from Sector Four, no less." Then Fleming stopped short and lifted a hand. "Though you were raised here, yes?"

  "Yes." Lex smiled, sweet but somehow icy. "I was Cerys's best pupil, but only in certain subjects. Oral sex and improvised weaponry, for example, though rarely in conjunction."

  Dallas damn near choked on his own spit. Fleming's bodyguard spluttered, though Mac only sighed and shook his head. "And there's your rough influence, O'Kane."

  Grinning, Dallas smoothed a proprietary hand over Lex's hair. "What can I say. We like our women only mostly tamed. Where's the fun in a woman who'd never stab you just a little, if you pissed her off bad enough?"

  "You like to live more dangerously than I do."

  Dallas patted her hip. "No danger. You wouldn't stab me anywhere important, would you, love?"

  Before she could answer, a melodious chime rang through the hall. The call to dinner, and whatever entertainment Cerys had devised. It was guaranteed to be illicit--Sector Two took cultured debauchery to heights unimagined even by most of the O'Kanes. For once, Dallas wasn't relieved to be spared more conversation. Watching Lex sharpen her tongue on bastards like Mac Fleming revved him harder than anything Cerys could have planned.

  Fleming and his bodyguard drifted toward the long table, but Dallas slid his hand around Lex's abdomen to hold her back. He splayed his fingers wide over the skin bared by her corset--the skin marked with his name--and lowere
d his mouth to her ear. "I should have brought you with me years ago."

  She dug her nails into the back of his wrist. "I'm here now."

  Two steps to the left and he had her up against one of those ridiculous columns. It seemed a lot less ridiculous when he had Lex pinned to it, her hands trapped under his, her leather-clad ass rubbing against his cock. He found her ear again and bit it roughly enough to draw a moan from her. "If you were wearing a skirt, I'd be in you already. I'd fuck you right here, while they sat down to dinner."

  She wiggled and moaned again when he held tight. "Why? To show them what a big man you are?"

  "No." He swept her hair aside and bit the back of her neck this time, setting a mark in her smooth skin. He'd have Ace do it for real someday--that much he'd already promised himself. For now, he used his teeth before licking the ravaged spot. "Because watching you wield a verbal knife gets me hot. Slice up that jackass from Seven over dinner, and I'll make it worth your trouble tonight."

  "You're gonna do that anyway."

  He knew Lex. He'd paid attention to all those trysts he'd pretended not to notice, had filed away the pleasures Lex pursued again and again. He knew how to stir fantasy to life. "Maybe I'll invite Bren or Mad to help me. Maybe both."

  Lex shuddered. "You're a dirty tease, Declan."

  "Only I get to fuck you." He tugged at her hair, arching her head back until she had to meet his eyes. "But they're creative. They'll think of a dozen ways each to get you off."

  Her eyes fluttered shut, and she snapped them open again. "And you, telling them what to do, every step of the way."

  He kissed her, hard and abrupt, a promise more than anything else. Her lips tasted too good for him to linger, or he really would decide fucking her was better than gritting his teeth through awkward dinner chatter. He stepped back and smoothed her hair back into place. "I am the king, darling."

  Her gaze raked over him, head to toe. Her breathing was just short of steady, and a delicate flush colored the skin above her corset. "I hope that means you can fake dinner conversation with my hand around your cock. You deserve the distraction."