“Anyway,” he said, pointing to the play area. “That is called a St. Andrew’s Cross. We also have the spanking benches and the whipping horse – those are very popular.”
“So I see,” she said, and then flushed in embarrassment and looked away quickly.
Finn stifled a groan. He was rock hard now, and every time he moved, the friction of his jeans rubbing against his cock threatened to send him over the edge.
He cleared his throat and forced himself to concentrate on the equipment in the club.
“That is an ob-gyn chair,” he continued. He pointed at a bed that dangled from four chains. “Floating bed.”
“So what are the rules?” she asked. “I mean, are there any rules?” She was watching a woman being bent over a pommel horse and spanked with a paddle.
“Absolutely. Consent is number one. Everyone has to establish a safe word before they start a scene. At any time during a scene, if they say the safe word, anyone else involved in the scene must stop immediately. And anyone who violates that will be removed from the club, permanently.”
“Oh.” The way her breath caught in her throat set his nerves on fire. “That sounds…safer than I thought it would be.”
“Do you think you’d ever want to try something like that?” Finn asked.
Her eyes widened at the thought. “I…I don’t know,” she said, her cheeks coloring. “I mean…being half naked in front of all those people?” She glanced self-consciously down at her body.
“You’ve got to stop that,” Finn growled. “If I were looking for a woman – which I’m not – you would be exactly what I was looking for. You. Your body. Exactly like you are.” Damn. How had that spilled out of his mouth?
“Why aren’t you?” she asked, looking him right in the eye and catching him off guard. He wasn’t used to frank questions like that. The type of women who hung out at the Lion’s Den generally didn’t want much more from him than what was in his pants, and he preferred it that way.
“Why not? Well, I… Bad experience in the past. I’m just not relationship material.”
She gave him a chiding look. “That sounds like an excuse. We all have bad experiences. But anyway, that’s your business, not mine.”
Before he could answer her, Jennifer walked up to him. “Hey, are you and your sub going over to the other side? Looks like the whipping station is free,” she said in a loud voice, right when there was a lull in the music. Everyone within earshot swiveled around to stare at them.
Flora’s cheeks flamed red. “I’m not with him. I should go,” she said quickly, and turned and hurried off, disappearing into the crowd. Finn moved to follow her, and found himself blocked by Jennifer, who’d accidentally slid in front of him.
Finn scowled at her. Where had that come from? He’d never been with Jennifer, he’d ignored her mild attempts at flirting until she’d stopped, and she’d never acted like she cared when she saw him with a woman. She’d never pulled a cock-blocking move like that before.
“What was that all about?” he demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I asked a simple question. Not my fault your weirdo friend freaked out,” she snapped, looking offended, and turned and hurried off through the crowd.
Finn was tempted to pursue her and demand an answer, but he let it go. He’d always tried to cut her more slack than he would anyone else. When she’d showed up at the Lion’s Den a few months after Marybeth’s death, he’d stepped in immediately. He’d gotten her a job and a place to stay. He’d spread the word that anybody who messed with Jennifer was messing with him.
But he’d also made it quite clear to Jennifer that he viewed her as a little sister, someone to be protected, and nothing more. She’d always been okay with that – hadn’t she?
With a growl of impatience, he hurried after Flora. What was she even doing here? She was in way over her head, both at this nightclub and in the Badlands in general.
He caught up with her at the front door. “Let me walk you to your car,” he said. “This is a rough neighborhood.”
“No, thank you. I didn’t drive here. I’m just going to walk back to my hotel.”
“By yourself?” He glanced at the clock on the wall in astonishment. It was quarter after twelve. “At this time of night? You do understand where you are, right?”
Since the Badlands were unregulated, shifters could do whatever they wanted there. Literally anything.
Outside the Badlands, shifters were strictly regulated. All shifters were required to be a member of a pack or a pride or a tribe, to ensure that they didn’t go feral. They carried identity cards and checked in monthly with the Council for Shifter Affairs.
Here, shifters went feral all the time – part of Finn’s job was to hunt down the ferals. The only law that existed was that which was created by the local Alphas, Rexes, or Warlords, or whatever the local leaders chose to call themselves. Leaders rose and fell, killed others or were killed, with the regularity of the rising and retreating tides.
This curvy innocent with the sexy repressed librarian vibe didn’t belong here.
“You can’t walk around here at night by yourself,” he said, following her outside.
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, thank you. I’m a cat shifter. I have claws.” She held out her hand and extended her claws, and for a brief moment her hand went flat and furry as it turned into a paw.
The fur was silvery white, shot through with black, like her hair. Silky-looking fur, he thought. He wanted to pet it.
But her notion that she could defend herself here was ridiculous. She was a lynx; even though shifter animals tended to be bigger than non-shifter animals, she’d probably weigh a hundred pounds at most in her lynx form. Could she defend herself against a pack of wolves? Or a lion? Or a bear?
Before he could answer her, she turned and walked away. Which hotel was she going to? he wondered. Wherever she was staying, she was heading out of the Hudsons’ territory.
The residents of their territory paid protection, and wore a large “H” symbol on their clothing to show their allegiance. Anyone without the symbol was fair game to the roving packs of thugs, or lone muggers, in the territory.
She wasn’t wearing an “H”, he realized now. And she wasn’t wearing any other Alpha’s or Rex’s or Chieftain’s symbol either, so she was unprotected. Did she not know about it? He hadn’t noticed before because frankly, she’d had his head totally fogged up from the minute he’d laid eyes on her.
He hesitated.
He didn’t know this girl. It was no fur off his back if she got mugged. He looked out for his own and nobody else – that was the rule he lived by these days.
His brother Liam was standing by the front door with Jose. He handed Finn a bottle of mineral water. Finn took a long swig of it.
“You going to let her go?” Liam asked him. He glanced at Jose. “That’s his new girlfriend.”
“Nice.” Jose nodded approvingly. “A step up, for you.”
Finn snorted. “What are we, in kindergarten? She’s not my girlfriend, and she doesn’t want my help. Whatever happens to her is nothing to me.”
“Yep. Sure.” Liam gave him a knowing look, which annoyed the hell out of Finn.
“I mean it,” Finn growled. “She’s not my problem.”
“Of course she’s not.” Liam shrugged. “Can’t go picking up every waif and stray that wanders through Darwin.”
“Damn straight.” Finn nodded, and thought of how she’d smelled. There had been that hint of cinnamon mixed in with her natural musk. Did that mean she would taste like cinnamon as well?
Liam leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his broad chest. “She knew what she was getting into, coming to the Badlands.”
“Course she did,” Finn said, and tried to believe it. Everyone knew about the Badlands.
“Say, you see those four wolves in the doorway across the street? The ones who aren’t wearing our mark?”
Finn brightened. A fight? Something to take his mind off the sexy lynx?
He looked at the doorway where Liam was pointing.
“What four wolves? There’s nobody there,” he said, puzzled.
“Yeah,” Liam drawled, “That’s because they just took off after your little lynx. They all turned the corner at 14th Street.”
Finn dropped his bottle of mineral water and took off after them at a dead run, shifting as he ran.
Chapter Three
A garbage can came flying out of an alley, clanging on the concrete. He heard the sound of snarling and hissing, and loped down the alleyway, roaring with rage.
A chemical smell stung his nose. Two wolves were rolling on the ground, clawing at their eyes with their paws and yelping.
The lynx was backed up against a dumpster, in human form except for the claws that protruded from her fingertips. Her purse lay on the ground, contents spilled out.
She held a canister of mace in front of her, pointed at the other two wolves.
They were facing her, crouched low, the fur on their backs ridged with fury. Finn dodged the cloud of mace and took a swipe at one of the wolves with his paw. His claws raked the wolf’s flesh, ripping bloody strips. The wolf howled, and turned and ran, blood streaming down his side. He left a long red trail behind him.
His companions joined him, legs churning, eyes wild with fear. Their agonized yelps rang through the air as they raced away.
“Be sure to rinse your eyes out with running water for at least twenty minutes!” Flora called after them. “Also, don’t attack strangers! Or anybody! It’s very rude!”
Finn wanted to say, “Are you for real?” but he was still in lion form, so it came out as an astonished growl.
“Get back!” Flora cried out, pointing the can of mace at Finn. “If necessary, I will mace you!”
If necessary? Where was this woman from?
Finn quickly turned human again, his fur melting back into his skin, fangs retracting. He rose from a crouching position. His eyes stung from the lingering cloud of mace. “Damn, woman!” he complained, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Put that thing away – I’m here to help you!”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.” She was breathing hard. “I was doing fine,” she added, but she didn’t look too sure of herself. Her shirt was ripped and hanging open. She quickly peeled it off, reached into her purse and pulled out another shirt.
Finn couldn’t stop himself staring at her. That soft, rounded belly, her generous breasts straining against the white cotton bra…
“I know, I know,” Flora muttered as she buttoned her shirt.
“You know what?” Finn said.
“I’d be so pretty if only I’d lose a few pounds.” Her voice was sadly self-mocking.
“Who ever said that to you?” he said, indignant.
“Oh, my family, my mate-to-be…” She caught herself and looked away as she scooped the scattered contents of her purse back in.
So, she was supposed to be mated. To some idiot who didn’t appreciate a good thing when he saw it.
And given the fact that she was in the Badlands, things obviously hadn’t gone well there.
“Did he hit you?” he asked, and a sudden swelling of rage bubbled up inside him.
“No,” she said quickly. “Please forget I said anything. I’m fine, really.”
The two of them walked back to the street and looked both ways. The street was empty now, and mostly dark.
The buildings were all older, built back in the 1940s. That was when the Council for Shifter Affairs had set aside the state for the exclusive use of shifters who didn’t want to register. The few working streetlamps up and down the street were islands of light in the pitch black, not that it mattered. Shifters had excellent night vision.
“Come back to the club with me,” Finn said impulsively. “My apartment is in the building right behind it. You can crash at my place until Krystle gets back.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no, thank you anyway. I have a reservation at the hotel. It’s not far from here. I’m fine from here on in. Thank you for your help.”
“Where’s your mark?” he asked her, exasperated, but she turned and walked away, in nervous, rapid strides.
She was lying. Hotels in Darwin were filthy flophouses that didn’t take reservations.
Well, the hell with her, he thought resentfully. He’d done everything possible to help her, and she was still determined to get herself killed. He wasn’t about to run after her and drag her kicking and screaming back to the club.
Still, he stood there in the dark for a long, long time, head cocked, listening for any sound of screams or distress coming from the direction in which she’d just gone.
* * * * *
Flora glanced back over her shoulder as she hurried off, looking at him once more before she turned a corner. He stood with his back to her, still naked in the chill of the night.
He seemed larger than any lion shifter she’d ever encountered before. He was a good 6’4”, with broad shoulders and rippling muscles. And not that she’d looked on purpose, but it had been impossible to miss the massive member dangling from that thick thatch of hair.
As she got farther away from him, she felt a surprising stab of loneliness and a strange urge to hurry back to him. He’d made her feel safe in the brief time she’d been with him. She was so alone out here, far away from everything and everyone she knew. But then, she didn’t know him either. And given how utterly she’d been betrayed by those who were closest to her, she sure as hell wasn’t going to put her trust in a perfect stranger.
She kept walking, and the streets were so empty and quiet it was eerie. The sound of her feet slapping on the pavement echoed in her ears.
As she got farther and farther away, the last working streetlights disappeared and the only illumination came from the ghostly moon and the tiny white splotches of stars. Flora slunk through the shadows, clutching her purse to her, her senses on high alert.
In addition to good night vision, she also had an excellent sense of smell, although not as powerful as a wolf’s or bear’s. Right now, she was wishing her sense of smell was not so acute. The odors that were drifting her way made her nose wrinkle. Rotting garbage and urine splashed on concrete. Stale, unwashed B.O., some of it days old, some of it fresher. Ugh.
So this was what freedom smelled like.
The smell of urine and B.O. grew stronger and fresher as she walked. She heard something rattle in a doorway as she passed it, and she stifled a cry of fear. Looking down, she saw an old, grizzled bear shifter curled up there, sleeping off a drunk.
She didn’t feel comfortable being human here.
She hurried down a side street, stripped out of her clothes, stuffed her clothing in her purse, and shifted, sinking to all fours. Ugh. Now her sense of smell was even better.
Then she prowled the dark, lonely streets, purse in her mouth, looking for a place to sleep. She’d lied to Finn about the hotel. She didn’t have money for a hotel, or a cell phone to call and make a reservation.
She’d never owned a cell phone. The Wilkinsons had made sure of that.
And she’d spent almost all her money on the bus that had brought her to the Badlands border station, where she’d handed in her identity card and listened to various dire warnings before they’d let her through a big metal gate. She’d had to shift and run twenty miles to get to Darwin.
Up ahead she saw a row of old buildings that seemed abandoned. She sniffed at the air. She was alone; no other shifters anywhere within scenting distance.
Well, she’d sleep here for the night and figure out what to do in the morning. She slunk through the doorway of what appeared to be an old warehouse, and began pacing through the moldy, damp rooms, heading towards the back of the building.
Had she made a mistake coming here? She’d fled to the Badlands in a state of pure panic. She had found out that her cousin Krystle was here, living in Darwin.
/> She hadn’t wanted to tell Finn that Krystle was related to her, in case the people who were chasing after her were looking for Krystle too. She needed to warn Krystle what might be coming her way, though. She just prayed that her cousin would be back soon and could give her some kind of guidance on how to survive this strange, terrifying new world.
Flora finally came to a room near the back of the building, with a pile of flattened cardboard boxes in the corner.
She settled down cross-legged on the floor, stared at the pile of boxes, and concentrated hard.
Burn, she thought.
Nothing happened. Of course.
She pinched her arm, even though she’d tried that already. Pain didn’t seem to work. She’d jabbed herself with a pin the day before just to be sure.
Fear didn’t work either. If it had, those wolves who had just attacked her in the alley would be barbecued wolf-kabob. She was glad she hadn’t set the wolves on fire; she didn’t want them dead. She just wanted them to behave themselves.
She thought back to that summer six years ago, when her cousin Krystle had been staying with her family for the summer after a stint in juvie. Flora’s thuggish older brother Howie had attempted to fondle Krystle. She’d kicked him in the nards and run off through the field behind their house. Howie had tried to chase Krystle, and Flora had jumped on him – and the shed near the house had burst into flames, as if a bomb had gone off. Right before the fire, Flora thought she’d felt something – an odd buzz inside her, something she’d never felt before.
When Flora had looked across the field, she’d seen Krystle standing there, fists clenched, staring at the shed.
Flora had rushed off to tell her parents that she had been the one who’d set the fire, to keep Krystle out of trouble. It hadn’t helped much; her parents had shipped Krystle off to stay with another relative a few days later anyway.
With a heavy sigh, she slid behind the boxes and curled up to sleep.
Chapter Four
She woke with a start, and lay still for a long moment, scenting and listening. The sun was up, streaming through the building’s cracked, filthy windows.
Badlands: The Lion's Den Page 2
