by Cynthia Dane
“Nala!”
“That’s the thing, Vince.” Nala stopped at the bottom of the spiral staircase and looked up at him. “You need to separate the two of us. I’m not Nala when you’re acting like a territorial alpha male. Because nobody owns or controls Nala Nazarov. Understand that right now.”
He braced himself against the railing, eyes boring into hers even from that great of a distance. “Then who the hell are you!”
“Don’t you know? You named me.” Nala fetched her sweatshirt from the living area and tugged it tight around her frame. When Vincent still hadn’t responded by the time she reached the front door, she turned around, finding him wanting. “I’m the Nightingale. Every time you see me like this, I will be the Nightingale.”
The door was heavy behind her. Vincent did not come after her, which was fine. She didn’t want him to make a scene as she entered the frosty night air and walked toward the nearest boulevard where she could hail a cab to take her home. You pay for what you named, Vincent. The Nightingale would call him Master. The Nightingale would bow to his command and be the perfect submissive to his domination. The Nightingale would become a queen of espionage and stand in the face of danger, whose name was Xavier Crow.
It was best for Nala Nazarov to step out of the light and let Nightingale shine. Nala was brash, foolish, and a liability to stone-cold justice. The Nightingale, on the other hand, was the perfect identity for Nala to give her new focus, and to act as a burner should she need it.
The Nightingale would submit. Nala would stay where it was safe, where she could keep her identity – and heart – in a treasure box.
It was all she had. It wasn’t much, but she wouldn’t let someone like Vincent Lane or Xavier Crow take that away from her too. I can be both Nala and Nightingale. She had to be. For her sister’s sake.
Even for Desirée’s sake.
Entry #7
If you’re out there, Desirée, then I apologize until my soul has been forgiven.
I am more man than brain. Having Nightingale to myself all day was both reassuring and the worst decision I’ve made in the past three years.
I took her again. In my home. In my bed. I made love to her. I made her feel the strength I’ve kept inside this long. I filled her with everything I had, in the vain hope that it would heal me.
It didn’t.
If anything, I am even more confused and frustrated. After all that, she left, taking my money right in front of me so she could make her escape.
There is no denying that she has enjoyed everything I’ve thrown her way. Tonight, I tapped into my old friend bondage. I had forgotten how calming the ropes make me feel. It’s good to get back into it, because I will need a skill to barter with The Aviary, and it will keep us from having to have sex in front of the others.
Right now, I only want to keep that to ourselves. I will share my art with the world, but my sexual needs and releases are for Nightingale only. There is still so much more I can show her. So much more to the deepest sides of me to reveal.
I’m afraid. I need, but I am afraid. The more of myself I give to her, the more I feel my vision coming apart.
Chapter 16
Two weeks after making her grand debut in The Crow’s Nest, Nala was back, arm hooked around Vincent’s and descending the secret stairs with nary a trip of her stiletto heels.
“You sure you’re set to go?” Vincent asked, stopping their steps at the bottom of the stairs. He waited for Nala to catch her balance before continuing. “This place is too small for us to meet for a private conversation. Ask me something now before we go in.”
Nala stood up straight, tugging at her body-hugging lavender dress delivered fresh that morning. Just gonna let the man pick out my outfits. Obviously, he was male and capable of a healthy erection or two around her, but Nala wanted to make sure the others knew how much he wanted her around the clock. If I can’t get a spring in his pants from one glance, then I’m obviously not his real girlfriend. No one had told her this. She had deduced it on her own.
“I’m ready,” she said lightly. “Nightingale, reporting for duty.”
His hand squeezed her shoulder. “You can be yourself.”
“No I can’t.” Vincent knocked on the door, making that creepy butler appear. “They wouldn’t like Nala. They like Nightingale. And after tonight they will think she’s the shit.”
The door opened. They were welcomed with a proper announcement, forcing three pairs of heads around to greet them. Quail and Sebastian appeared to be running late.
“Gale!” Nala could always count on Robin being the first to welcome her to these things. I sort of like her. Robin was crazy obsessive with the lifestyle and a bit too chipper for Nala, but she may be the ticket to best friend stardom for Nightingale. Rope her in. Make her your solid ally in this place. Quail was a bit too reserved to read, and Starling self-absorbed. Maggie? Well, Nala was still trying to figure that woman out.
In the times since seeing her new best friend, Nala had deduced that Robin was a true lifestyle submissive. She enjoyed serving, as evident when she hauled Nala to the wet bar and insisted on pouring her a cocktail.
“This is for your Master.” Her chipper attitude was almost infectious. “I know you probably want to make your own drink for him eventually, but everyone swears by this. Get him started with a sip or five of this, and he’ll be the sweetest guy in the room.”
Yeah, I bet. Nala took both drinks and forced a pleasant smile. “Thank you so much, Robin. I really appreciate how you’ve taken me under your wing, so to speak.”
Nightingale had the softest voice Nala ever heard come from her own throat. Submissive, but not a pushover. That was the persona she was building for Nightingale. Nightingale loved to make her Master happy and shower him with adoration, but she did it because it brought her genuine joy. That was the part Nala had to remember. I’m becoming an actress after all. Either that or she was becoming more comfortable around the other members of The Aviary. The female members, anyway. She remained suspicious that some man would try to arrange a rendezvous with her.
Robin took a step back, flustered. Her pink cheeks turned cherry red as she hid a grin behind the palm of her hand and giggled out that sweet mirth. No wonder she landed a man easily. Nala didn’t swing that way and she was starting to have a crush on this woman. Or maybe Nightingale swings that way. Her next smile was slightly flirtatious, as if to say, “You know, if your Master demands a threesome, I might go for it.” She didn’t dare send that grin to Vincent. Might give him the wrong idea.
Nala returned to her Master with two drinks in hand. “Here you go, sir,” she said sweetly, her newly free hand rubbing the top of his suit jacket. “Robin kindly made us drinks. I made sure to bring it to you myself, though.”
A flash of surprise flittered in his eyes, but Vincent quickly blinked it away, sampling the cocktail with a swish of the tongue. “Thank you, darling,” he said, his words burrowing deep into Nala’s psyche. I sometimes forget he’s a better actor than me.
“Anything for you, Master.” Nala leaned her head against his shoulder, using it as a chance to survey the room. The other couples milled about, Starling breaking off to greet Quail and Sebastian as they finally entered. As of yet, Xavier Crow was nowhere to be seen. “I look forward to tonight’s show,” Nala continued. “You’re going to wow them, sir.”
Every time he looked at her, it was with a hint of intrigue. I told you this was going to happen. They had several phone conversations since Sunday night. Vincent convinced that he had somehow wronged her; Nala telling him again and again that this was what was best for her. The more she separated herself, the easier it was to play the part necessary to get the justice the universe demanded.
Joseph approached them, shaking Vincent’s hand and asking him about business. Nala made sure to nuzzle her Master’s arm, acting as if anything Joseph said was nowhere near as important as making sure Vincent was happy right now. There’s that cologne. Nala glance
d at his crotch and was almost disappointed to not see a bulge there. Maybe later. Nightingale loves sex. Okay, so did Nala, but Nightingale loved Vincent’s sex. Starting to freak myself out now…
It didn’t take long for Crow to make his arrival. He came through the secret door all smiles, his usual bevy of lingerie-clad beauties in tow and heading straight to the wet bar to get everyone drinks.
“Good evening!” Unnerving how easily he smiled. Man is a true psychopath. Or maybe it was because he wasn’t directly involved with killing people. He gave the kill order, like a capitalistic dictator. “Pleasure to see everyone here already! Unfortunately I was caught up in traffic. Almost had my driver hop out and cobble a pedestrian or two.”
Vincent and Nala exchanged glances. He was probably thinking what she was thinking… driver? Assassin? Same difference.
“You know these blasted Oregonians,” Crow continued. “Law gives them too much pedestrian right of way. Idiots think they can jaywalk whenever they damn well please…”
Nala hated to break it to him, but that happened in Nevada too.
Once Xavier was over the terrors of driving down Burnside, he welcomed everyone to have their seats while the intimate party began. The benches were arranged in a semi circle this time, allowing each group to eye each other as they drank, cuddled, and whispered nothing into one another’s ears. Vincent led Nala to one on the far end, letting her take the seat right next to the stage – and where she could hide the best.
“Who here is from Oregon?” Xavier asked, sitting upon his throne. “I admit, I hardly even visited here until about ten years ago. Now it’s practically home, with all its… trappings.” A woman brought him a glass of brandy and draped her body across the back of his chair. Women: victims and decorations. Nala had to keep her eyebrows in check. Nightingale was expected to be a vision of decorum and class.
Only one person in the room admitted to being from Oregon, and that was Lucian. “Grew up in Tualatin,” he said briskly. “Doubt many of you have heard of it.”
Nala suppressed an eye roll by half-burying her face in Vincent’s shoulder. There’s a bus that goes out there! It’s in the fucking metro area! Good Lord, rich people. Didn’t even bother to know the names of towns and neighborhoods in their area that didn’t concern them. If only Nala could be so privileged.
This conversation led to people going around the room and talking about where they were from. Most were from California. A couple, like Quail and Starling, were from the east coast. Vincent told the truth and said Fresno. Nala, on the other hand… well, she would let Lucian be the only “real” Oregonian in the room.
“I’m from Nevada,” she said sweetly, although her lie didn’t stop there. “Henderson.”
Vincent glanced at her, but said nothing. You know why I’m lying. So far nobody knew who Nala was. Just as well. She had her secrets that must be kept from Crow. If he knew that Vincent and a Nazarov were in his inner circle…
Now Nala had to store this lie in the back of her mind, cataloguing it with any other lie she had concocted. A woman had to keep her story straight, after all.
She had to briefly wonder if anyone else in the room was lying.
“We’re both from Texas,” Jay said, motioning to Maggie beside him. “Met there, married there…”
“You’re married?” someone asked.
“Yeah, we’ve mentioned it… how many times?”
Maggie pursed her lips. “At least once a meeting.”
“Of course they’re married,” Xavier said. “A handsome couple like them? Dare I say… it was our dear Magpie who made sure Jay committed?”
Laughter spread through the room. Those pursed lips turned into a taut smile that could have eviscerated lesser people. I still can’t get a reading on this woman. If anyone was more guarded in The Aviary than Nala, then it was definitely Maggie. Ten bucks says she’s not even a sub. The theory that she was here purely for her husband’s business advancement was looking more plausible. Poor woman… not that she couldn’t hold her own with this group of people.
“Maggie is a woman who knows what she wants.” Jay patted her knee, fingers flecking something off her skin. “When she said she wanted me, well, how could I resist?”
Vincent brushed his hand against Nala’s arm. His other hand disappeared into his pocket, tapping something away on his phone. Within another minute, Nala’s cell phone buzzed with a message.
She stole a look when all focus was off her. “That man is not a Dom.”
Nala hoped he would elaborate later. Not that she wasn’t getting the same vibe as well. If there is kink in that relationship, then Maggie is holding the reins. What were they playing at? Why would Xavier Crow invite a couple who didn’t totally fall in line with his image? Then again, neither was Nala… but Xavier didn’t know that.
“Tonight we have a special itinerary planned,” the host said, standing from his throne and putting the spotlight back on Vincent and Nala. She made sure to sit with her posture facing Vincent, one hand clasped adoringly on his shoulder. Nice muscles. Have I said that recently? Nala fought back the images of him looming over her, talking about taking her to new and exciting places with her body. Down, I say! There would be time for sex later, if she still wanted it – and if Vincent wanted it.
She glanced at his tightening muscles. Oh, yeah, he wanted it. He was being a gentleman.
“I’ve invited Vincent and his sweet Nightingale to join us in The Aviary as full-time members. They’ve graciously accepted, which means tonight they shall be inaugurated into our Hall of Fame, so to speak.”
Polite applause rippled around the semi-circle, with Robin clapping the most enthusiastically. Nala tried to relax her shoulders and exude a warmth that she was not used to producing. Vincent, on the other hand, remained his stoic yet gracious self.
“Vincent has shared with me that he’s quite the bondage aficionado. I thought we would start the evening with their initiation. A simple – or not so simple, if you’re our Vincent – bondage demonstration with Nightingale as the lovely model is on the menu tonight.
More applause. We’re doing it now? Xavier and his beauties stepped off the stage and took seats on a bench behind Maggie and Jay. Maggie shifted in her seat, eyes glancing behind her with a frown threatening to consume her countenance. Interesting. Nala focused on that as she followed Vincent onto the stage. Better than focusing on the fact she was about to be erotically tied up in front of these people.
“Please get into position,” Vincent said, loud enough for the people nearest them to hear. Nala stood in front of the throne, keeping her chin up and the clean bun on her head back. Vincent wanted her to have her hair down, but for the demonstration it was best if it were out of the way. “I’ll eventually get to the point where I can braid your hair with the ropes. Perhaps.” That’s what he said on the phone the day before. Nala thought it silly at the time, but now wondered if it would feel good…
Vincent was a silent demonstrator. He wasn’t the type to talk to the audience while he worked, preferring to let his artwork speak for itself. My quiet gentleman. That’s what Nightingale would say, if she were allowed to speak right now, but they both decided it best that she speak as little as possible, in case her temper got the best of her. So Nala lowered herself to her knees, taking care that her stilettos didn’t accidentally pierce her ass when she leaned back.
One silk rope after another landed in front of her, coloring the stage in deep crimson. Nala had no idea what design Vincent was going to do. The only planning they did together was deciding what position Nala would start off in. Vincent told her to follow his lead after that.
“Good.” He tickled the back of her neck, his caress sending unexpected shivers down her back. Someone swooned in the audience. Probably Robin. “You’re doing great, darling.”
So that was the pet name he settled on. I wonder if it’s natural. What did he even feel about her after Sunday night? Did she care? Right now I can’t afford to
care. Not like I love the man. And yet…
“Above head.”
Nala raised her arms and cupped her hands above her head, barely missing her bun. She thought Vincent would tie them together, but instead the first rope went beneath her arm and looped across her shoulder.
The key was to not look at the audience. Easy, since Nightingale was a submissive mare, tamed and ridden. It didn’t mean anything if Nala stared at the stage before her knees, waiting for a command to shift in this direction, to turn her head this way, or lift her chin just so. Always, however, her eyes remained pointed at the floor. She did not need to meet Xavier Crow’s lecherous gaze as she became more vulnerable before him.
Still, it was not a quick demonstration. Xavier Crow would not be content with that for their debut as a sexually available kinky couple in his circle. He wanted a show. Nala was a passive doll tonight, who barely had a finger placed on her, but she still had to perform. She had to sit perfectly still while Vincent tied knots, moved her limbs, and gave her the occasional soft touch that made her tremble – quite involuntarily.
Murmurs echoed in the audience. Women leaned in toward their Masters; Masters became more animated. What is he doing? Every so often her arms were tugged upward, until finally she had to get up on her cramped heels. Pulleys squeaked behind her. Her shoulders ached, and her back threatened to become sore for the next few days.
It wasn’t a lot of weight. Even with the ropes intricately tied above and behind her, it wasn’t that much weight, thanks to the pulleys. Yet as Nala became more wrapped up in the world of bondage, she began to feel that dull curiosity that begged her to look up and see what was happening.
