Grace’s job, when she wasn’t teaching self-defense classes or chasing down demons, was at a burlesque club. And when Chaya walked in, the other female was dancing on one of the raised stages placed around the room. Tall and sleek, she was dressed in a beautiful turquoise vintage bra, corset, and panties set with garter and stockings to match.
This hadn’t been what Chaya expected when Grace asked her to meet her at work.
The other female drew attention, her pale blond hair glowing under the lighting. But then maybe that’s what she wanted. This place would be just as good to gather intel as Toxic if the clientele were any indication.
Grace sat across from her now, eyes intense after Chaya had shared what had been said and what she’d seen during her trip to The Dungeon. She’d learned more than what she’d set out to, that was for sure, but her realization about herself would stay private.
Grace reached out and took Chaya’s hand. “You did fantastic. I’ve heard of Ian and his brothers. We wrote them off. They seemed to have other…priorities.” Grace shuddered. “But maybe they’re worth another look,” she said more to herself. Her gaze slid back to Chaya. “But Victor we’re definitely still interested in. We’ve struggled to get intel on him.” She gave Chaya’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you comfortable meeting him again?”
Despite her apprehension, there was only one answer. “Yes. And I’m positive there’s more to him. Honestly, I think he’s hiding something.” The truth was Chaya was more determined than ever.
She needed something to fight for that wasn’t a lost cause.
Grace gave her hand another squeeze, her eyes bright, determination shining through. “Excellent.” She sat back. “Now that’s shop talk over with,” Grace said. “How about a drink?”
Chaya scanned The Dungeon for Victor. It looked like she’d gotten there first. This was the third time she’d meet with him. The second, they’d spent most of the evening observing other couples.
The more they’d observed, the more she learned about herself. She was a dominant, there was no denying it anymore, and the more she watched, the more she wanted to experience what she’d seen in those scenes herself.
Being with Brent now seemed an impossibility.
Not letting her head go there, she looked around for Victor. They’d talked quite a lot the last time they’d met, and she’d managed to ask him a few questions without him getting suspicious. Well, she hoped like hell she’d pulled off her mini interrogation. He’d seemed relaxed enough while they spoke.
Besides being a demon, Victor was a businessman. A very successful one and she assumed a lot of his associates were demons as well. He’d mentioned an upcoming event, an exhibition, one that could provide them with names, perhaps even info on the demon or demons trying to take over the city. Because that’s what they were trying to do. This was war, and she was now one of many soldiers fighting in it.
In any war there were casualties, and she hadn’t gone into this blindfolded. If you didn’t know the risks, you had no business being there. She knew exactly the kind of danger she’d put herself in.
And she wasn’t backing down. She wanted an invite to that exhibition, which meant getting closer to Victor.
Tonight, at his suggestion, she’d agreed to a scene with him.
As his sub.
The price of admittance to his world and a way of proving herself.
She knew it was coming, and accepting had been the only way forward.
A price she was willing to pay for the greater good. For their cause.
She’d spent several hours making her own list of hard and soft limits last night, as requested. And though she was new to this, she knew the sub was really the one with all the power. They dictated what they did and didn’t want. She was in control.
Was she afraid? Yes, she was terrified of what was about to happen. She’d thought she’d wanted this. She knew now this was the last thing she wanted, especially with this male.
What she was about to do was a means to an end. That was it.
She didn’t trust this demon with her body, and she sure as hell didn’t want to be dominated by him, but she needed him to believe the opposite. The club was full, there were witnesses, she had a safe word. Everything would be fine.
She had to admit, the male had a way about him. That smooth melodic tone he used could lull anyone into a false sense of security. She wasn’t stupid enough to trust him, though. She’d kept to her story about Brent and their messed-up relationship. She had a feeling he’d see through her if she tried to lie. So she’d stuck with the truth as much as she could. He’d told her he wanted to spend more time with her and then made his offer to train her so she could surprise Brent and show him she knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.
If nothing else, Brent had provided her with a great cover story.
But an invite to the exhibition would only come if she did this. If she turned him down now, she had a feeling he’d lose interest in his little project and she’d miss her chance.
A cool hand landed on her shoulder.
She started and spun around.
Victor stood behind her, tall and lean, dark suit impeccable, expensive. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut neatly, his jaw smooth. Nothing out of place.
“Eyes down, Chaya,” he admonished.
“Right, sorry.” She forced herself to look down. His nearness made her shiver, but it wasn’t the good kind. Her reaction was born of unease, not desire.
You can do this.
She thought of her aunt, a powerful demon who had tortured Zenon then had come after her sister, and her resolve strengthened. She wanted these assholes out of her damn city and she’d do anything to make that happen. Even do something that, now she knew what she was, felt so damned unnatural it made her feel ill, to bring them out in the open so the knights and demi like Grace could take them down.
“I think maybe you should try that again, don’t you?” Victor’s voice was velvety smooth but held an edge she’d never heard before that rasped across the surface of her skin.
Keep it together, Chaya. “Sorry, I forgot myself, Sir.”
He made a low sound in the back of his throat then cupped her jaw, lifting her chin slightly. “Are you?” He ran his thumb across her lower lip, stretching the skin awkwardly, not enough to cause pain, but she sure as hell didn’t like it. The urge to jerk out of his hold almost won out.
Heat hit her face, her anger getting the better of her. “Yes, Sir.” Was he into humiliation? The male probably got off on it. Luckily, she’d made that a hard limit.
“Very good, Chaya. I’d advise you not to forget again.” He was silent for a few seconds, his gaze burning down at her. “Do you have the list I asked you to prepare?”
“Yes, Sir.” Since she’d left her coat and purse out front, she’d tucked it down the front of her leather corset. She pulled it out and handed it to him.
His low chuckle lifted the hair on the back of her neck. “Hmm, it’s still warm from your skin. You have lovely skin, Chaya.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Her palms grew sweaty as he opened it up and looked over her list.
He made a tsking sound. “This won’t do. This won’t do at all. Do you not grasp what you’re doing here?”
Her stomach turned over. “I’m not sure what you mean…ah, Sir.”
“This lifestyle is about sexual freedom, the exchange of power, the surrender of it, trust. If a Dom is lucky, he’ll receive total and compete submission from his sub. I can’t teach you if I can’t touch you sexually.” He released a long breath, trying to make her feel like an idiot, letting her know she’d disappointed him greatly. She didn’t give a shit if she disappointed him, but she had to make him believe the opposite. “You either amend this list, or you leave and stop wasting my time.”
The idea of this male touching her intimately, strapping her down, controlling her, felt wrong in every way possible. She’d wanted to explore this yearning she had, this need for more that had always left her feeling unsatisfied and frustrated, but only with Brent. Only him.
But that wasn’t happening.
“No sex, Sir,” she bit out.
He was quiet for several seconds and she didn’t dare look up. “I think you need to clarify, Chaya. What are we talking here? Fingers, tongue, cock?”
She gritted her teeth, stomach in knots. “Cock…Sir.”
He slid a manicured finger under her chin and made her look at him again. “That wasn’t too hard, now was it? That’s a hard limit for you.” He took a pen from the inner pocket of his jacket and made the changes on her list. “Right, are you ready for your first scene?”
Her belly was so full of nerves all she could do was nod jerkily.
He raised a brow.
Shit. “Y-yes, Sir.”
What the hell are you doing, Chaya?
“Follow me.” He strode through the large room, sure and confident. She ignored her inner self screaming at her to turn and run the other way. Somehow she got her feet moving forward, one in front of the other, until he stopped near the back of the club.
“Since this is your first time, I thought you might appreciate some privacy.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Though the room was only blocked off by a half wall and anyone could watch if they chose to, it felt more intimate, private.
The small area was set up like a medieval dungeon. The walls were made to look like stone, the fixtures heavy steel and rough-hewn wood. A small table sat against the partition wall, what lay on its surface concealed by a red cloth.
Victor placed her list on top of the table. “Take off your clothes and stand in front of the St. Andrew’s cross.”
His deep tone demanded obedience, and she had to force herself to comply. Everything about the situation felt wrong in every way. Was she really going to do this? Stand naked in front of a male she wasn’t attracted to in the slightest, let him touch her body, control her, tie her up?
She could still back out if she wanted to.
But how could she look at herself in the mirror again if another demi was slaughtered and there’d been a chance that she could have stopped it? That by doing her part in this war, she could have prevented it.
Taking a deep breath, she loosened the laces of her corset and slid it down her legs. After unzipping her boots, she set them aside and removed her skirt. That left her in her bra, panties, and fishnet stockings.
“The bra, too, Chaya.”
Shit. She shook off her rising panic. Reaching back, she undid her bra, letting it slide down her arms. Not allowing herself to think about what she was doing, she walked to the cross in a kind of daze and stood waiting for his next order.
He moved in and walked around her slowly. “You have a beautiful body. Exquisite breasts.” He stopped in front of her and trailed a finger across her collarbone then down over the top of her breast, circling her nipple. It puckered under his touch. But it was a purely physical response and left her feeling shallow, empty in a way that made her bite her lip to hold back a whimper.
“Turn around. Lift your arms,” he whispered roughly against her ear.
She did as he asked, going against every single one of her instincts, and tried to fight a wave of panic as he secured coarse rope around each wrist. A sense of wrongness, even stronger than before, overpowered her.
What am I doing?
She tried to convince herself again that she could do this. That it would mean nothing, that this was all about the cause, but she suddenly realized, for her, this did mean something. Nothing about this felt right. Not here in this club that despite all the warm lighting felt cold and clinical, not tied to this cross—and not with this male.
Ice snaked its way through her veins and she tugged, trying to free her hands. “I’ve changed my mind.”
He chuckled, dark and low. “It’s just nerves, my sweet. Nothing more.” He moved in close and brushed her hair away from her shoulder. “I promise I’ll take care of you. You need to trust in that. You need to trust me.”
She didn’t. Of course she didn’t trust him. And she’d just let him tie her up. Her back was to him. She had no idea what was coming. She was utterly vulnerable, completely at his mercy.
Grace had the guy at the door on payroll and had said she’d arrange for someone to be at the club, that they’d be watching and would get her out if she ran into trouble. Chaya looked around desperately. She didn’t recognize anyone. Were they watching now?
Ah, shit. She was on the verge of a panic attack. She started sucking in big gulps of oxygen until she felt dizzy. Her brain had turned to mush and she couldn’t think. God, she felt like she was drowning. What was the safe word again? She squeezed her eyes shut. “Let me go. I want you to let me go. Now.”
“That is not how you speak to your master, now is it?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Oh dear. Now I’ll have to punish you.”
The lights went out for a split second and the music went up, then a strobe started, disorientating her. She blinked out into the club. It was too dark, and she could only see flashed snapshots of the people there.
Pale faces, people moving, coming closer.
Chaya screamed.