At His Mercy

by Shelly Bell

  Just being with her was tempting enough to drive him mad. But when she’d bowed her head and apologized for raising her voice, she’d sealed her fate. Until that moment, he hadn’t even realized that sometime between Isaac’s home and the broken streetlamp, he’d stopped thinking of her as his student and had started thinking of her as his Angel.

  Treating her like his Angel.

  And she’d responded to his dominance, resuming her position as his submissive as if it were a role she’d been born to play.

  If the phone hadn’t interrupted them, who knows how far they would’ve gone?

  He’d been two seconds from fucking her against the nearest tree.

  He’d done the right thing by telling her it couldn’t happen again.

  Maybe if they both denied their attraction for long enough, they would start to believe it.

  She was too young to understand that one wrong decision could alter the entire course of her life—and not necessarily for the better. At her age, he had almost lost himself to grief after his mother passed. He’d indulged in drugs and alcohol-fueled sex with nameless girls, oftentimes waking up in strange beds to faces he couldn’t remember.

  If it hadn’t been for Isaac and Ryder, he would’ve ended up either dead or in prison. When he’d stopped attending classes, he should have been thrown out of school. But Isaac had refused to give up on him and, along with Ryder, had pulled him from the brink of disaster. They had dragged him to classes, kept him sober, and showed him that he wasn’t alone in the world. Isaac had arranged for a grad student in the business department to tutor Tristan in order to catch him up with his class assignments.

  It hadn’t been long before she tutored him in more than school. As his Domme, she’d taught him self-discipline and patience, and for two glorious semesters, his body and mind were hers to command. It was when his need to control outweighed his pleasure in submitting that she’d taken him to his first play party and shadowed him as he’d topped his first submissive.

  He often wondered if Isaac had arranged his tutoring with the knowledge that she would indoctrinate him in the BDSM lifestyle, but talking about sex with his mentor had never rated high on his list of things to do. To Tristan, it was like talking about sex with his father. Bad enough to have to sit through the basic birds-and-the-bees talk, but his penchant for tying women up and spanking them was better left unsaid.

  If he and Isabella succumbed again to their attraction, they’d be playing with fire. No matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t be responsible for ruining her dreams.

  After an hour of walking, he finally gave up and turned down the street to his apartment complex. Off campus and on the border of the next town over, it wasn’t the nicest part of the area—but it was the cheapest. The tenants in his building were mostly those who worked in service positions at the university or at the shops around the campus. Thankfully, the property manager housed students on the opposite side of the complex. No one wanted to run into their professor after school hours.

  He climbed the stairs to the second level, stepping over the broken beer bottles and cigarette butts. Sometimes it was hard to believe he’d gone from living in a penthouse loft, complete with a security guard manning the front desk and panoramic views of downtown Detroit, to this. Not that he’d ever felt at home in the loft. It was cold and sterile, decorated by some famous designer that Morgan had hired. Why he’d paid thousands on furniture they couldn’t use or sit on was beyond him. Everything was white and light gray, and so damned clean, he’d worried about touching anything.

  While he’d given in to Morgan’s demand for city living, the perpetually single Ryder had bought the house in the suburbs that Tristan had eyed. Ryder had told him when the time came, he’d sell it to him at market rate. Tristan had laughed, knowing full well Morgan would never move. As it turned out, Ryder had never expected them to last. Too bad when the time came that their marriage was over, Tristan could no longer afford to buy the house from his friend.

  A long shadow fell across his feet. He looked up and saw the devil herself standing by his apartment door.

  First the phone call to Isaac and now a visit? His mentor had been right. Morgan was definitely up to something.

  On the outside, she was just as beautiful as ever—petite and toned with thick hair that fell down her back in golden waves—and yet, all he saw was the ugliness she hid underneath all her flawless skin.

  He strode past her as if she wasn’t there and stuck his key into the door’s lock. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d go away.

  With a hand on her hip, she turned toward him. “Nice place. I mean, it’s not as nice as the loft, but I can tell by the smell of the Dumpster, this apartment complex has real class.”

  Bad enough that she’d taken everything from him, but she had to constantly remind him of that fact.

  Not about to invite the devil inside for a tour, he sighed and leaned his shoulder against the door. “Morgan. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Visiting old friends,” she purred. Reeking of that ridiculously expensive floral perfume she always wore, she reached up and began fussing with the collar of his shirt. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her off of him. “Well, don’t you look handsome, Professor Kelley. Coming home from a date?” She laughed. “No, if that were the case, you’d be wearing your leathers. It’s not easy to beat up poor, innocent women while wearing a suit, right?”

  He took a deep breath, counting to ten before speaking. If he lost his cool, he’d be playing right into her greedy hands. “You know damned well I’ve never beaten up a woman.”

  “I doubt a court would agree once I showed them the photographs,” she said, smiling in victory. “But let’s not waste time rehashing the past, darling. I’m simply exhausted from all the fresh air I’ve gotten.”

  She’d always hated it in the Michigan Upper Peninsula. The closest she preferred to get to nature was sunbathing nude on a yacht off the coast of the Bahamas.

  “So I take it you were already on your way here when you called Isaac?” he asked, wishing she would just get to the heart of the matter. Talking to Morgan always exhausted him, and he had another long day of teaching tomorrow.

  Her eyebrows shot up in a perfect arch. “Is that what he told you? I didn’t call Isaac. I shared a meal with him this morning at this charming little restaurant at a bed-and-breakfast off campus.” She paused, pretending to consider. “I wonder why he would lie to you.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Isaac would have mentioned it. This was just another one of her games, and he was done playing. Didn’t she have anything better to do than drive twelve hours just to gloat over his circumstances? It wasn’t as if she could get more money from him. It would be like trying to bleed a rock.

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Because it’s your nature.”

  She blinked, and if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn he saw hurt flash in her brown eyes. “You always did see the best in Isaac. But the man isn’t exactly the saint you think he is.”

  He knew everything he needed to know about his friend. “This is just another one of your manipulations. I’m over it, Morgan, and I’m over you. Ruining my life was a game to you, and now that the game’s over, you’re bored, so you’re trying to start another one. Get this through your head. I’m. Not. Playing.”

  She pursed her lips. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Tris. I’m not the one playing a game. You think you know everything, but you’re still in the dark, and it’s not up to me to show you the light. You’ll have to find that out on your own. And whether you choose to believe I’m telling the truth about Isaac is up to you.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  A knot of dread lodged in his chest at her confident smile.

  “I want what you promised me in your wedding vows,” she said, her eyes as dark as her cold, black heart. “I want it all. And I’m not going away until I get it.”

  Eleven

  L
ips still tingling from Tristan’s kiss and her heart bruised, Isabella let herself inside her dorm room. After the long day on little sleep, she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. But the moment she spotted Chloe crying on the couch, all thoughts of sleep disappeared.

  “How did it go at Dean Lancaster’s?” Chloe asked, wiping underneath her eyes with her finger.

  “Good, but forget about me. Are you okay?” Isabella hovered by the door, not sure of the etiquette in this situation. Should she give her some privacy? A hug?

  Chloe waved her hand and sniffed. “Not really. Do you ever feel as if no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be good enough?”

  All the time. Throughout their relationship, Tony systematically destroyed her self-esteem. She hadn’t felt pretty enough. Smart enough. Good enough.

  Maybe that was why she was so driven to make something of herself now.

  She sat on the couch and put her arm around Chloe. “What happened?

  “I had my first practice audition today in vocal music class.” She picked up a half-eaten chocolate bar off her lap and took a bite. “I thought it went really well. But my professor tore into my performance.” She sighed and gave a little smile through her tears. “I know it was the first day of school, but it was just disappointing, you know? So I called my mom…” Her bottom lip quivered. “She told me I should switch majors now because I’ll never make it as a singer.”

  How could a mother say that? Wasn’t it her job as the parent to support her child?

  Isabella rubbed Chloe’s back reassuringly. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

  Her roommate shrugged. “No, she did. My mom…let’s just say she’s not the nicest woman in the world. At least to me. Unless she’s single”—she rolled her red-rimmed eyes—“which rarely happens, she doesn’t pay a lot of attention to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Isabella said. It was hard for her to imagine, especially since her own family tended to be the opposite. Always in her face. She was the one who’d pushed them away.

  “That’s probably why I got into a lot of trouble in high school. My therapist told me it was my way of getting her attention. A cry for help.” She paused, her gaze flicking back and forth to Isabella’s wrists. “When it didn’t work, I tried to kill myself.”

  While her first instinct was to correct Chloe’s misconception that she had also attempted suicide, she was more concerned that her friend had tried. “Chloe—”

  Her roommate put her hand up. “I’m fine now. You don’t have to worry you’re going to come home from class and find me dead on the floor.” She patted Isabella’s knee as if she were the one needing comfort. “I’ve had hours of therapy and I’m in a much better place now. Enough that my psychologist thought going away to college would be good for me. A fresh start.” She let out a shuddered breath. “The problem is even though I intellectually know I’ll never get my mom’s acceptance, I still crave it. Singing has always made me feel special, but today’s class really shook my confidence. Add in the conversation with my mom, and I just lost it.”

  It suddenly struck Isabella how similar they were. Both of them had gone through a rough time in high school and had come to college for a new beginning.

  Isabella plucked the candy from Chloe’s hand. “Will you sing for me?”

  Chloe’s eyes widened. “Now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” she said almost shyly. “But be honest. Better I know the truth than waste four years of schooling.” She popped up from the couch and stood a few feet in front of Isabella. “I’ll do a bit of my audition piece.” She bowed her head, and when she lifted it, she began to sing.

  The first note sent shivers down Isabella’s spine.

  Chloe had a voice like she’d expect to hear from a Broadway star: Powerful, rich, and dulcet. Singing about unrequited love, she made Isabella feel every word, bringing thoughts of Tristan.

  Would that be her this year? Longing for a man who didn’t want her?

  Isabella’s eyes burned with unshed tears—tears she refused to cry. Eventually, she’d get over her feelings for Tristan, right?

  When Chloe finished, Isabella stood up and clapped. “Your professor must be insane because that was amazing. Seriously, I got shivers.”

  A huge smile broke out on Chloe’s face. “So you don’t think I should listen to my mom and change majors?”

  “I think it would be a crime to throw away a talent like yours, and if music makes you happy, you should pursue it. Don’t let anyone else tell you how to live your life.” If Isabella had listened to her family, she’d be working at their bakery and living at home until the day she got married. But business school was her dream, and unlike Chloe’s mom, they supported it. A stray thought entered her mind. “Unless of course your mom refuses to pay for college if you remain a music major.”

  Chloe snorted. “No. She couldn’t care less what I do. That’s why her statement bothered me so much. She only said it to hurt my feelings,” she said nonchalantly.

  Isabella’s heart broke for Chloe. “I’m sorry she’s like that. What about your dad?”

  Her friend shrugged. “He’s not in the picture.”

  “Oh.” Way to stick your foot in your mouth, Isabella.

  “Well, according to Mom, he’s not someone I’d want in my life. And considering the losers she dates, he must really have been bad.” She looked Isabella straight in the eyes and arched a brow. “As long as they have deep pockets, she tends to overlook their other faults,” she said bitterly.

  There was no mistaking her words were filled with hidden meaning. What horrible things had those men done? Abuse her mom? Had they hurt Chloe? Chloe took back the candy bar from Isabella and returned to her spot on the couch. “Are you close with your mom?”

  She’d obviously changed the subject on purpose. If she didn’t want to elaborate on her statement, Isabella would have to respect that. There were things she wanted to remain private too. After all, Chloe didn’t need to know about Tristan or that she was a submissive.

  “I used to be.” Before she’d gotten lost in her relationship with Tony, she’d told her mother everything. She’d always carry around a slice of regret in her heart for not repairing her relationship with her mom before she left for college. “It was my fault. She’s great. Busy, but she always made time for me.”

  After Chloe had revealed so much, she felt almost obligated to confide in her about her own past, but even more surprising was that she wanted to tell her. “I pushed my mom, my friends, everyone, away for a guy.” She held out her arms and turned over her wrists, displaying the pink jagged lines. “These scars…I didn’t do this to myself. Senior year of high school, my boyfriend tried to kill me by slicing my wrists open.”

  Chloe’s face blanched and her hand flew to her chest. “Oh my God. How scary.” She took Isabella’s hand and brought her to the couch. “I hope he’s in prison.”

  “No, a mental hospital. His official diagnosis is schizoaffective disorder, which is like schizophrenia and bipolar all rolled into one.” She clenched her hands into fists. Just thinking about it flooded her with anger and fear. “I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is he’s not supposed to be able to contact me in any manner, but yesterday, I got a letter from him in the mail. I don’t know how he got my address here because I made sure it was unlisted on the school’s directory.”

  “Um.” Chloe winced. “There is one way he could’ve gotten around it. I have you listed as my roommate, and my address is published. I’ll make sure to go on the directory and change it.”

  Isabella shook her head. “If that is how he found me, then it’s too late.”

  He would’ve had to spend hours combing through the thousands of names.

  He was still obsessed with her. And yet, according to Erin’s message, the doctors thought he’d improved.

  What if they let him out, and he came after her?

  A restraining order wouldn’t stop him.

  “We
could change rooms,” Chloe suggested.

  She briefly considered it. “No. I’m not going to let him dictate my life anymore. His doctor assured my contact at the prosecutor’s office that it wouldn’t happen again. If they can prove he contacted me, they’ll throw him in jail for violating the restraining order I have against him.”

  She trembled, chilled to the bone at the thought of seeing him again. She just hoped he’d remain in the hospital for a long, long time.

  “I’m really sorry you have to deal with that.” Chloe took her hand. “I hope you know, you can tell me anything. I’d never betray your trust.”

  “Thank you. Same here.”

  “Now I understand why you have no interest in guys right now.” Chloe waggled her eyebrows. “If I were you, I’d probably give up men all together and become a lesbian.”

  Isabella giggled. If only it were that easy. “Tony didn’t ruin me on men.” But Tristan might have. How would anyone ever measure up to him? One touch and her body went haywire. Hell, her panties were still wet from earlier. “I’ve actually been with someone else since Tony.”

  Chloe smiled. “Must have been good if you’re blushing just from thinking about him.”

  Crap. If she was that transparent, she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to face him tomorrow. He’d take one look at her and know what she was thinking.

  Which was why she could no longer think about it.

  She pressed her fingers to her swollen lips, almost feeling his warm, demanding mouth on hers. They had a chemistry that would be hard to deny, but in the end, he’d been right to stop it before it went any further. This morning she’d been resolute to keep the past in the past—and that included Tristan.

  From this point forward, Tristan was only someone that she used to know.

  Twelve

  Between lectures and office hours for Tristan’s job as professor and sales calls for Novateur, the month flew by in a blur.

  At his desk reviewing his lesson plans, Tristan realized he truly hadn’t anticipated just how much he would enjoy teaching.