Damien grinned broadly. “You’re just an old softy, Chef.”
It also made him uncomfortable being called something that he officially wasn’t. Much as he’d wanted to, he’d never had the chance to attend a culinary institute. As a self-taught cook, he shouldn’t answer to the title of ‘chef’ but he’d long given up correcting his staff. Maybe someday when Dracul and his minions had been permanently destroyed, he could indulge himself by going to school. There was always something new to learn.
In the meantime, he could strive for such normalcy as the internecine war permitted. Today was the most important cooking day of his life. Everything had to be perfect. With the two of them working, the time passed quickly. Emil was ultimately grateful for both the help and the company. It was breakfast before he knew it, so he started on the more mundane task of cooking eggs, bacon and toast for the hordes that were about to descend from the living quarters.
Mackie was the first to come flying in, with Demi in his wake. He had some kind of green goo slathered all over his face. “Emil, I have to see the cake! Please say I can.” He rushed over to the counter. “Ooh, bacon.”
“Mackie!” Demi cried out. “Don’t eat yet or you’ll crack your mask. You’re not even supposed to be talking.”
Emil picked up a slice of bacon and handed it over. “Here. We can’t have you fainting at your own wedding. And what’s the stuff on your face supposed to do, anyhow?”
“Clean and tighten his pores,” Demi huffed. “It’s his big day, after all.”
“Your skin is perfect already,” Emil told the groom with a smile, which broadened as he watched the boy consume the bacon with a blissful look. “And of course you can see your cake. Come on.”
He led him over to the walk-in refrigerator and opened the door with a flourish. For a few seconds, Mackie said nothing. He simply stood and stared. Then he gasped.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous.” He turned moist eyes toward Emil. “It’s like something you’d see on TV.”
“Oh my God,” Demi moaned. “Don’t cry. That will ruin your mask, too.”
“I don’t care.” Mackie flung himself into Emil’s arms. “Thank you so much. If I weren’t already madly in love with Val, I’d marry you instead.”
Stunned by the praise and affection, Emil awkwardly hugged him back. “It gives me great pleasure to make you happy.” He tried not to worry about the green stuff getting on his whites.
“Am I going to have to kill you, Emil, for stealing my boy?” Val drawled out the question as he sauntered into the kitchen and headed for breakfast.
Both Demi and Mackie shrieked. Mackie jumped away from Emil and turned his back to his fiancé. “Val, what are you doing here?”
“Yeah,” Demi chimed in, using his body to shield Mackie from Val’s line of sight. “You’re not supposed to see him before the wedding starts.”
Val paused with a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth. “Why the fuck not? I just spent the night with my dick up his ass. Doesn’t that count as ‘seeing him’?”
“Don’t be crude,” Mackie called out as he inched his way over to the door. “I can always change my mind about marrying you.”
Val snorted. “I don’t think so. Try it and I’ll be forced to add a paddling into the ceremony.”
There was another gasp from Mackie and a giggle before he and Demi left the room. “Come back and get your breakfast when Val is gone,” Emil called after them with a shake of his head.
Val grabbed a plate and started filling it with food. “I’ll pile on enough for the two of them and take it up.” He shook his head. “Do you understand any of this nonsense?”
“No,” Emil replied, shutting the refrigerator door. “But your fiancé does and that’s all that matters, right?”
Val shrugged. He shot Emil a wistful expression. “Yeah, I guess that’s right. I want this day to be perfect for him.”
“Me too. So get your food and theirs, then scram. I need room and no distractions if I’m going to get everything done in time.”
“Got it.” After pouring himself a mug of coffee, Val took the meal and himself out of the room, except he paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Emil. You have become as a brother to me, and I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I truly value you.”
The sentiment caused Emil’s heart to squeeze a bit. Their kind wasn’t much for expressing emotions, at least among males. “Thank you, Val. I return the feeling. Now get the hell out of my kitchen.”
* * * *
The dance floor had been converted into a nave with an enchanted bower running along the edges, complete with a canopy of greens where Val and Mackie would recite their vows at one end. The stripper poles were festooned with colorful ribbons, reminding him of the maypoles of long ago. Emil stood to one side, trying not to tug at the collar of his Canali tuxedo. He hated formal wear and was never so happy as when he was lounging around in a T-shirt and jeans—or his chef’s whites. But Mackie wanted formal and the kid had gone through a lot of misery, much of it in the last few months. He deserved whatever he wanted. One didn’t have to be head-over-heels in love with him to want this wedding to meet his dreams.
That included Alex officiating through some Internet certification that mystified Emil. And he was also surprised to find himself standing for Val as his Best Man in the time-honored human tradition. He had been stunned to be asked and terrified he’d fuck up his one role in the ceremony. For the umpteenth time since getting dressed, he felt in his pocket to make sure the wedding bands were there. Then he eyed the long table set at the far end where the cake sat proudly for perusal. It was a knock-out, if he said so himself. Once the ceremony was over, he would dash back to the kitchen and start laying out the food.
All of the staff, including the go-go boys, were in attendance, as were a few club members that Val and Mackie especially liked. Kitty stood nearby, gorgeous and stately in a skin-hugging red strapless satin gown. She looked every inch a queen, which was probably why he and his compatriots felt such an affinity for her. And on the other side of the room was the cop, Duncan, looking uncomfortable in a natty, pinstriped suit. Demi circled around the poor man, like a minnow harrying a shark. Emil’s money was on the minnow, if it came down to it.
He craned his neck to check out the dark corners of the room and was relieved to see Logan lurking there. Although she was a grown female, perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he still worried about her. The colder it got outside, the more he wanted to keep her safely within his orbit. She was stubbornly resistant to the idea, although she did sometimes sleep in the done-over storage room he’d presented her. She had openly dismissed the invitation to attend the wedding. Yet, here she was, and it allowed Emil to breathe just a bit easier.
The music started, getting everyone’s attention. Voices stilled and all eyes turned to the end of the bower where Val and Mackie walked hand-in-hand to the strains of Pachelbel’s Christmas canon. Val wore a Victorian-era charcoal-gray tuxedo, complete with a champagne jacquard vest and jabot. The outfit would have been considered vintage if not for the fact that he’d bought it himself more than a hundred years earlier. Mackie wore pants in a matching shade of gray, but his jacket was a tunic-style white damask with a Mandarin collar. The ruffles of his white regency shirt cascaded down his front and peeped out from the end of his sleeves. Their combined beauty stunned Emil and caused a strange longing to rise inside him.
There was no time to dwell on his reaction, however. Soon the ceremony started with Alex reciting age-old homilies about why they had all gathered together. Then, first Mackie, followed by Val, recited the old English vows they’d agreed upon.
With a clear, yet shaky voice, Mackie said, “I, Mackenzie Andrew Fraser, take you, Valeriu Stelalux, as my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, to cherish and to obey, till death us do part.”
There was a l
ittle snickering by some of the attendants at the ‘obey’ part, but it was good-natured. Everyone knew Mackie was Val’s boy. Then Val pledged nearly the same and in only a slightly more controlled voice that made Emil smile. Alex turned to Emil for the rings, which he managed to liberate from his pocket without dropping. He breathed easier now that his role was over.
A few more traditional words were spoken, but the ceremony wasn’t quite over yet. Val pulled a narrow, supple black collar out of his pants pocket with a gold tag hanging off the D ring. The tag was etched with their new monogram as a married couple—a stylized S bracketed by a V and an M. There were gold lines tooled all around the leather that looked simply like a pretty design, except that Emil and all his kind would recognize them as their language. It spoke of devotion and protection that meant more to Val than the human vows he’d given. The way Mackie gasped at its sight and looked at his husband with tears in his eyes, it was obvious he hadn’t expected his wedding would also serve as a collaring ceremony for a Dom and his sub.
Val presented it. “Will you wear this, Mackie?”
The boy nodded and whispered. “Yes. Yes, Master.”
Val buckled it around Mackie’s neck, laying the tag on the ruffles of his shirt for all to see. He took the boy’s hand, turned to their guests and held their arms up. Everyone clapped and cheered. Val swung Mackie into his arms, bent him over and kissed him silly. When they finally came up for air, Alex was the first to congratulate the married couple. Quinn hugged them both, and soon everyone crowded around them, giving their best wishes.
Emil used the opportunity to slip away and into the kitchen. He was tugging off his bow tie before he hit the swinging doors. There would be time enough to express his happiness to his friends. For now, his duty was to get the food out. Everyone was in the mood to party and there was no reception without plenty to drink and eat.
He took a second to pause and appreciate the quiet space he considered his domain. He loved this kitchen and he loved cooking. There was nothing he wanted so much in this world that he’d been forced to adopt than to pursue this simple pleasure in peace. If only he could. For now, there was a lull from the fighting. But how long would it last? Not long, by his experience. Tonight, though, he could let go of his worry, and it started by getting the hors d’oeuvres into the oven.
Chapter Two
“I’m happy to confirm, Mr. Washburn, that your membership application has been accepted.”
“That’s excellent news, Mr. Stelalux.” Master’s voice had that booming, happy tone that he always used when he got his own way. Joining Club Lux had been important to him, crucial even, as he focused on establishing himself in a new city.
Jase was careful to keep his perfect pose—knees shoulder-width apart, back straight, hands clasped behind it and head bowed. His job was to show what a wonderful job Master had done molding the perfect slave. He was a testament to how lucky the club would be to have a new member like Master, although Jase suspected all the club owner really cared about was the strength of Master’s financials. The big, scary man sitting behind the massive desk didn’t look like someone who was easily impressed by anything or anyone. Jase hoped that the man wouldn’t insist on having a taste of Jase to seal the deal.
“Please call me Alex. We’re informal around here.”
Master chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it. People call me Wash, as it happens. I’d be delighted if you would, as well.”
“Wash, then. Welcome to Lux. If you’d be so kind as to write out a check for the initial dues, I’ll have your club card and key to you in the next day or so.”
“Of course. As it happens, I have it here.” Master made a show of taking the check out of his inner breast pocket and handing it over. “I’m optimistic by nature, so I came prepared.”
Jase’s view of the goings-on was peripheral, but he was used to seeing his world that way. Master—and the ones who’d come before him—liked Jase to mind his manners and not anyone else’s business. All he had to do was keep his ears open and obey on command, except he’d also learned that if he didn’t try to pay more attention, unpleasant surprises occurred.
He had no idea what to expect of this new city and the club. Master was happy to finally be able to settle down and parade his boy out in the open. With Jase’s eighteenth birthday had come liberation from the dirty and often illegal secret of keeping an underage sex slave. There was no more hiding necessary, unless one counted that Jase had never given himself freely to the man—or any man—and that he stayed out of the sure knowledge that escape was impossible. Trying to do so meant horrible pain. Being a good and obedient boy was the best he could hope for.
“Does your boy need a membership card and key?” the club owner asked, which surprised Jase. The man was acting as if he were a person and not Master’s toy.
Master’s heavy hand came down on top of Jase’s head. He tried not to flinch. “No. Thank you. Jase goes nowhere without me. We’re in a committed twenty-four-seven Master-slave relationship, you see.” A pressing of fingertips warned Jase to be good.
“Indeed.” There was a pause before the owner continued. “I saw the copy of his birth certificate in your application file. He’s only a few months into his eighteenth year. That was a fast courtship.”
Jase couldn’t help tensing. He could hear the skepticism in the man’s voice. He needn’t have worried. Master was a smooth liar, having years of practice that spanned more than Jase’s lifetime.
Master patted Jase’s head. “Well, my boy is precocious. I can’t deny it. He knew what he wanted and went after it as soon as he could. I was helpless to resist.”
Oh yes, Master was a fantastic liar. If Jase hadn’t known better, he would have believed every word.
“Well then,” the club owner said with a hint of false cheer. “Welcome to the club, Jase. I hope you enjoy our playrooms. If you have any questions, the go-go boys will be happy to assist you.”
“Thank you, Alex. What do you say, Jase?”
“Thank you, sir.” Jase was careful to show just the right amount of deference, yet not so much as to indicate he had any interest in the owner. Master was a jealous man.
“Feel free to use the facilities now, if you wish.” The offer was a dismissal.
Master understood it for what it was and, snagging Jase’s leash, he stood. Jase followed suit without prompting. “I’ll see you around, Alex.”
When Master turned to leave, Jase couldn’t resist glancing at the club owner. The man startled him by already having his gaze fixed on Jase. Beautiful violet eyes bore into him as if the man could see right through the carefully constructed persona of a collared slave that Master had cultivated in Jase. Although the look made Jase cringe, it also held some kind of reassurance. Here was a man who would bend to no one. If Master thought he held some control over this man, he was wrong. Of course, Jase didn’t harbor any desires of being taken by the man for his own slave. As miserable as life was with Master, how much worse would it be with someone who looked like he could kill without compunction? Still, it was somewhat comforting to be reminded that Master wasn’t the omnipotent being he portrayed in Jase’s life.
A tug on his leash was a reminder that he wasn’t keeping within the required two paces behind Master. He hurried to correct the mistake, knowing that there would be consequences. There always were, even when he did everything right. There was no fun in it for Master if he couldn’t subject Jase to some amount of pain.
When he stepped past the threshold of the office, however, he bumped into a rock wall. No, it was only a man—a broad-chested muscular man who reached out to steady Jase by grabbing him by the shoulders. Jase gasped in surprise and accidently looked into the man’s eyes. Violet, like the owner’s, except these held a softness, a kindness that Jase hadn’t seen in any man…ever.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Are you okay?”
Jase opened his mouth before remembering that he wasn’t suppose
d to talk to anyone without permission. He couldn’t look away, though. And the coolness of the man’s hands seeped through the thin leather of Jase’s jacket to his naked skin beneath it. It made him shiver.
The man frowned. “Are you cold? You should have more on. It’s January in Boston, you know.”
A ‘sorry’ was on his lips before he could stop himself, as if he had any choice in what he wore. Only Master did, and yeah, Jase had been cold walking from Master’s condo down to the car then into the club. A fleeting and dangerous thought crossed his mind that if this huge bear of a man wrapped him in his arms, Jase would never be cold again.
A vicious tug on his leash had him pulling away from the man and into the less-warm embrace of Master. “Sorry. This is my slave. He’s not allowed to speak to you without my permission.” There was a steely tone underneath Master’s matter-of-fact apology.
The man folded his arms. “Oh yeah? I’m not in the lifestyle, so… He should have more on.” The audacity of the reprimand would have thrilled Jase if he didn’t know that Master’s anger would be taken out on his hide.
“I appreciate your concern. As a brand new member, I haven’t had a chance to meet everyone.” Master didn’t offer his hand.
Neither did the man. “I’m Emil, Alex’s cousin and the cook around here. You might want to order some food for the kid along with the clothes. He’s too skinny.”
The man Emil didn’t wait for a response. He merely continued into the club owner’s office, shutting the door behind him. A split-second later, Master was hauling Jase back to the main area of the club and up the stairs. Being daytime, practically no one was around. Jase kept his head down and didn’t bother checking out the beautiful surroundings.
Master stormed into the first empty playroom he found and closed them in with a kick of the door. Next, he unhooked the leash, waves of fury flying out of him. “Strip and get your ass on that spanking bench.”
Slave Dance Page 2
