by Jenna Jacob
“No. A rodent who needs to be exterminated.”
“I can’t argue that.”
Kellan nodded, doing the best he could to mask the rage boiling within as he turned and walked away. He bypassed the bench and stormed back into his office. Mercy was now sitting on the edge of the couch, sipping water. She turned her eyes up at him. Though Kellan wanted to get lost in her aqua pools, he strode to his desk, removed his robe, and draped it over his chair.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked in a dispassionate tone.
“Yes, but I don’t want to put you out. I’ll catch a—”
“Dammit, Mercy.” Kellan slammed his fist on his desk.
She jolted and curled in on herself. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb and sucked in a ragged breath.
“I’m sorry. I had no right to rip into you like that. Kerr’s still here. I just had a conversation with him in the hall. He knows to leave or be arrested, but I don’t trust the prick to heed my warning. So, I am taking you home, and that’s the end of this discussion.”
Even from across the room, Kellan saw the tremor of fear ripple through Mercy’s body. “He won’t rest until he’s gotten his revenge, will he?”
Probably, but he wasn’t going admit that and scare her even more.
“The man’s warped. I’ll do all I can to keep you safe. You have my word.”
Mercy lowered her lashes and focused on the empty water bottle in her hand. “Thank you for your help, but I’ll have to confront him eventually. I can’t run and hide like a scared rabbit the rest of my life.” Her barely audible tone lacked the conviction of her words.
“Does Walker know where you live?”
“Yes.” She sighed heavily.
“Do you have a house or—”
“An apartment. I live at Elmhurst Lake in Highland Park.”
Kellan was impressed. Even a one-bedroom apartment at the upscale complex cost an arm and a leg. But he was more taken aback by the fact that she lived so close to him. “I have a place in Highland Park, myself. In fact, I’m less than a mile down the beach from you. So, see? Taking you home isn’t out of my way at all.”
“Small world.” She flashed him a smile that made him want to moan. “I guess ‘howdy neighbor’ is in order then.”
“Howdy.” He smirked, then turned sober. “Do you own a gun?”
“I’m from Texas. My Daddy taught me to shoot before I was old enough to drive.”
Kellan knew she was trying to make light of the subject, but she couldn’t erase the fear still swimming in her eyes. “What happened to Kerr? He wasn’t like this before he got shot. I mean, he was always an ass, but he was never violent.”
“I don’t know. I do know he died that night on the dungeon floor before the EMTs brought him back to life. Maybe he suffered brain damage from lack of oxygen or something. Hard to say. I do know one thing…he’s not going to give up, at least not today. The best we can hope is that he simply needs a little time to cool off.”
“And lick his wounded pride,” she added dolefully. “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”
Not careful enough.
Kellan was two seconds from offering to put Mercy up in his guest room. If he wouldn’t lie awake all night concocting reasons to sneak into her room, crawl into her bed, and fuck her to oblivion, he’d cart her straight home.
But a masochist he wasn’t.
Besides, he had a vow to keep—one that didn’t allow him to bed any sub.
Mercy isn’t just any sub…not by a long shot.
CHAPTER TWO
Kellan’s enticing, masculine scent filled her senses and soaked her panties. Mercy was still working to wrap her head around the fact that the standoffish Dom was actually speaking to her. She felt as if she’d won the lottery ten times over. One thing was certain; talking to him was a hell of a lot more interesting than him simply watching her like he always did in the dungeon. At first Mercy had found it endearing that the handsome Dom took an interest in her. His dissecting stare only fueled her fantasies about him all the more. But night after night he never approached her. His scrutiny felt a bit creepy and downright intimidating. Still, his strange behavior didn’t diminish her craving for him. The man was—a shiver rippled through her—delicious.
Gazing up at him, Mercy found herself biting back a grin. Sir Justice was an actual judge. She’d always assumed his club name was simply a metaphor designed to instill good behavior among the subs. His reputation at Genesis was that of a soft-spoken, gentle Master.
Mercy hadn’t seen much of his fabled temperament so far. He seemed irritated, cranky, and on edge. She didn’t know if Kerr, herself, or something else was to blame for Kellan’s sour mood, but she certainly wasn’t going to ask what had crawled up his butt. Instead, she cast her eyes to the floor. Not only was it the proper submissive thing to do but it also kept her from gawking at him like a lovesick puppy.
While she wished Kellan shared the same infatuation for her that she did him, his distance screamed he wasn’t interested in Mercy or her submission. He was probably only speaking to her now because he was too much of a gentleman to leave her passed out on the courtroom floor for the cleaning crew to discover.
Suddenly, Kellan thrust his capable-looking fingers toward her. Mercy locked a startled gaze on him. “I-I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“I asked if you were ready to leave.” His frown deepened. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Honest…just a bit freaked out.”
It wasn’t a lie. Kellan put her completely off-balance, but oh, how she craved him.
If she didn’t fear him shooting her down like a pheasant, she’d wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him blind. But rejection would be crushing and mortifying. She inhaled a steely breath and slid her fingers into his palm. That familiar and crazy rush of heat enveloped her once again.
Her girl parts started throwing a throb party, like they’d done before she passed out.
“That’s completely understandable,” Kellan quietly agreed as he helped her to her feet. “But Kerr can only hold the power you give him.”
“Yes, Sir, I know,” she replied before sliding her coat on.
Heat flared in Kellan’s eyes before he quickly banked it and clenched his jaw. Without another word, he plucked a large leather briefcase off the floor and led her out the door.
As they waited for the elevator, Kellan continuously swept his eyes over the hallway, searching for Kerr. An awkward tension hung in the air like a thick fog. When the elevator dinged, Mercy nearly jumped out of her skin.
Kellan sent her a sympathetic smile. “You’re safe, angel.”
Angel? His term or endearment made her knees weak. She felt small and fragile.
When the shiny metal doors opened, he placed a wide hand against the small of her back and ushered her inside. Heat spread up her spine and down her legs, making her skin tingle and burn. Sparks sputtered and popped inside her long after the doors closed and Kellan dropped his hand.
He stood ramrod straight, shoulders square, and chin slightly lifted. As he stared straight ahead, Mercy drank in every nuance of the man…from the sexy black scruff adorned with a few gray flecks lining his rugged jaw to his large hands and big feet. If the motto was true, then Kellan was hung like a damn horse.
A rush of heat blasted up her body.
He was several years older than her, a fact that added to the mystique of a mature and experienced man. He’d know his way around a woman’s body…around her body.
As if you’ll ever find out, the little voice in her head taunted.
The mixed emotions he evoked were maddening, but instead of attempting to sort them in the small descending cubicle, she continued to study him.
The slope of his nose was regal like a Greek God and his lips… Lord, she’d give anything to press her mouth to those kissable pillows for weeks…months…years.
A tiny smile kicked up the side o
f his face. “What are you staring at?” he asked without looking her way.
“You.”
“Why?”
“Um, because…” You’re drop-dead gorgeous, and I’m dying to rip that conservative suit off your hot body, slam you up against the wall, and fuck your brains out. “I’ve never seen you up close before. You’re always hiding in the shadows of the dungeon, watching me.”
Mercy issued an inward groan. Instead of calling him out for his furtive behavior at the club, she should have confessed about wanting to fuck him senseless.
His smile broadened as he turned and arched his brows at her. “How do you know I watch you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not blind.”
“Neither am I.” His expression suddenly hardened. “How many Doms have asked you to scene with them since you joined Genesis?”
Mercy mentally scrambled to come up with a number. “I don’t know. Eight or nine.”
“Twelve,” Kellan replied in a clipped and brittle tone.
The elevator doors opened and he strode away. For a stunned second, Mercy gaped at his retreating form before marching after him. Her heels clopped on the cement floor of the parking garage.
“You’ve kept track?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Kellan didn’t answer as he paused at a sleek, black BMW i8. When he touched the handle on the passenger side, the locks disengaged. He held the door open for her with an unreadable expression. “Get in.”
Mercy had ached to heed his command for months, yet the first one he lobbed her way had made her hackles rise. “Not until you tell me why you’ve kept count of the Doms who’ve approached me.”
“Get in so I can take you home, angel.”
His low, inveigling tone contradicted his imposing glare. Clearly her ultimatum had crawled under his Dominant skin. She’d roused Sir Justice. His big, bad, bold command roared to life and that authoritative mien lit her up like a firecracker. Mentally cursing her gushing hormones, she fought the dizzying wave of demand that rolled from her toes all the way to her scalp.
A soft shiver racked her body as she slid onto the butter-soft leather passenger seat.
Pride prompted her to keep pushing him, but she knew going toe-to-toe with a Dom was a no-no. While Mercy wasn’t privy to the finer intricacies of submission, she knew enough to back down, at least for now.
After he’d climbed in behind the wheel and maneuvered onto the busy street, Mercy turned his way. “What should I call you? Sir Justice or Kellan?”
“Outside the club, Kellan is fine. Inside, Sir will do nicely.”
“Does that mean you actually plan to speak to me at the club?” She shot him a taunting smirk.
He scowled as an indecisive noise rumbled deep in his throat. “I’ll think about it.”
“What’s there to think about?” she scoffed. “Is my past association with Kerr so disgraceful that I’m unworthy of a friendly hello from time to time?”
“Hell no! Kerr doesn’t have shit to do with anything.”
“Then what is it?”
“I have my reasons. They don’t concern you.”
“Obviously they do.” She knew she should shut up, but she couldn’t keep from poking and prodding. “You don’t have a problem talking or scening with any of the other subs…just me. Why is that?”
“So…you’ve been watching me, too? Tell me something, why haven’t you ever spoken to me?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You’ve not answered mine, either.”
I asked you first. The childish retort smoldered on the tip of her tongue. Mercy swallowed it down and lifted her chin. “Because I’m not supposed to.”
“Says who?”
“Approaching a Dom is not proper submissive behavior.”
“Who told you that?” Kellan’s brows wrinkled.
Mercy dropped her eyes to her lap. She didn’t want to confess it was one of Kerr’s many stupid rules. Based on Kellan’s reaction, she assumed it was another lie Davis Walker had spoon-fed to her to keep Mercy from seeking out other more qualified Doms.
“You don’t need to answer, I already know…Kerr.” Kellan exhaled in disgust. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Throw away everything that idiot taught you about the lifestyle and start attending the Saturday morning submissive classes at the club.”
“I’ve been meaning to, but I’ve been too busy with the hearing and work.”
“Find a way to free up some time. If you truly want to learn about the lifestyle, then you need to make the sub meetings a priority.” He paused for several seconds. “What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a freelance designer. Corporate branding, mostly.”
“An artist, huh? You must be talented as hell to afford Elmhurst Lake.”
She was surprised that Kellan knew her apartment complex charged a pretty penny for its units. The fact that Mercy paid more in rent than a lot of urban professionals did a house payment suddenly made her self-conscious. But what Kellan didn’t know was that her company had taken off so quickly, she needed the tax write-off working from home provided. Besides, the killer view of Lake Michigan was well worth the extra money.
“Just lucky.” She shrugged. “The right doors swung open when I first started my company. Word of mouth has kept me in toothpaste and corn flakes.”
“Modest much?” He smirked. “Who are some of your clients?”
She shot him a suspicious glance. “Why do you want to know?”
“Your secrets are safe with me, angel.”
His sexy voice cascaded down her flesh like whiskey poured over velvet. She couldn’t keep from naming off her Fortune 500 clients anymore than she could fly out the sunroof.
Kellan arched his brows. “For such a young woman, you’ve amassed an impressive list.”
“I’m not that young, but thank you.” She blushed.
The wide grin he flashed her way made Mercy’s heart skip.
“I own socks that are older than you, girl.”
When she laughed, Kellan’s nostrils flared and he gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“You have twenty-eight-year-old socks? I don’t believe that.”
“You’re only twenty-eight?”
“What do you mean only? I’m on the downhill slide to thirty.”
“Oh, you poor baby,” he chided dryly.
“How old are you?”
“Too old.”
“Too old for what?” she asked in a surprisingly sultry tone.
She felt him tense from across the vehicle. He remained quiet, as if pondering her question. “Skateboarding.”
She laughed again. “Me, too. I mean, honestly…who wants to break a hip?”
“That could easily happen to me,” he chuckled. “I’m practically a dinosaur.”
“Hardly,” she said with a pfft sound. “You haven’t grown scales or claws or big scary teeth yet.”
“Yet,” he repeated with a crooked smile. “I suspect any day now, I’ll wake up, look in the mirror and…well, it won’t be pleasant.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about for a couple million years or so.”
The excitement inside her glittered. She’d finally cracked his impenetrable veneer. The man within had a dry but witty sense of humor. Mercy realized the prickly pins and needles that had been scraping her flesh earlier had disappeared.
Kellan was an enigma to be sure, but she hoped their playful verbal jousting might be the beginning of a more profound friendship. Of course, it might be nothing more than him chasing silence with nonsensical banter while navigating the congested highway.
“You said you were from Texas, but I detect a hint of something else in your accent.”
“Like what?”
“Like Southern meets East Coast.”
“You have a good ear, Judge. No one else has picked up the gypsy inside me.”
“Moved around a lot, have you?�
�
“No, but I do love to travel. I grew up a couple hours northwest of Dallas on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. I’m talking nowhere. Our nearest neighbor was eighteen miles away. My dad is what you’d call a modern-day cattle baron. He raises and breeds longhorns, well, he and my brothers.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Four, all older.”
“I read an article about longhorns once. That can be a lucrative business.”
“Thankfully for Dad it is. That’s the only way I could have ever attended Cornell University. I studied there for a couple years, then transferred to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.”
“Was New York too much culture shock for you?”
“It wasn’t so much the culture shock…” Mercy paused and weighed how much personal information she wanted to share. No one but family knew why she’d escaped the Big Apple, but for some unknown reason, she felt compelled to tell Kellan everything. “My roommate committed suicide, and I was the one who found her.”
“Oh, angel.” A pained expression lined his face. “I’m sorry. Did you know she had problems?”
“No.” A fact that still filled her with guilt. “She was always the life of the party…happy…spontaneous.”
“Are you sure it was a suicide?”
“Yes. She left a note. Her boyfriend had dumped her.” Mercy’s anger bubbled to the surface the way it always did when she thought of Mary Jo—the pretty girl from Nebraska with flaming-red hair, freckles, and a fucking heart of gold. “She offed herself over some asshole who didn’t bother showing up for her funeral. I swear, taking your life because of some guy is a stupid and pathetic reason to check out, you know?”
Kellan sent her a nod. His eyes were brimmed in sadness, but he didn’t try to stop her from baring her soul.
“I don’t understand why Mary Jo gave that bastard the right to destroy her. We all screw up. I did when I gave Kerr the power to hurt me, but no man is worth swallowing a bottle of pills over. I’d never give anyone that much control over me…ever.”
“You shouldn’t.”
She sent him a quizzical stare. “I didn’t expect to hear that from the lips of a Dom.”
“There’s a big difference between a sub giving her power to a Dom and some asshole demanding she hand it over to him. That you already know.”
