Branded Sanctuary (35 page)

The late afternoon rain shower arrived as he was paying for their purchases, the lights flickering at a particularly sharp and brilliant shard of lightning. She loved storms, so she‟d moved to a table for two at the window to watch while he waited for their order. She‟d offered to pay, but he‟d given her a look of mild horror and waved her off to get them napkins.

Old-fashioned, weird, submissive, gorgeous, mysterious guy-thing. She held onto the smile that thought brought, and eyed the thrumming flood of rain, the gray sheets of it coming down, broken into panes by the wind. The way the trees moved in the background, behind the shopping center across the street. Florida thunderstorms often blew up fast and scary, but she was pretty sure it would already be dying off before they left.

Brendan joined her then, sliding her cup to her. “Can we admit to Marguerite we stopped in at a coffee shop?”

“I got hot chocolate, so I‟m safe. But she‟ll sniff out your treason.” Chloe grinned.

“Of course, Tyler prefers coffee over tea. She finally put a small pot on the counter for him, and she stocks his favorite brand.”

“Does she give him a hard time about it?”

Chloe lifted her nose and gave him an imperious look, doing her best Marguerite impression. “„If you insist on drinking cowboy swill instead of a civilized beverage, you can‟t share in any of my substantial profits.‟”

Brendan laughed. “Yep. That‟s exactly how she‟d say it.”

“I‟ve never liked the taste, but I love the smell of coffee,” Chloe confided. “It smells so reassuring, you know? It definitely has a very male aroma. My dad drinks it before work, so maybe that‟s why I‟ve always thought about it that way.” She folded her arms on the table and leaned in now, her eyes sparkling as if sharing an important secret.

“Truth, I think M has started to like it for the same reason. It reminds her of how Tyler smells in the morning, all coffee and unique Tyler-aroma.”

“What about you?” He stretched out one leg so it was on the outside of her hip, smiling a little as she slid her foot out of her ratty canvas sneaker and placed it on his foot, pressing down so he could feel the pressure of her toes through his Nikes. “Do you like the aroma of Tyler in the morning?”

“If he offered me ten minutes to take complete and total advantage of his body, are you asking if I‟d leap on it like a starving wolf on raw meat?” Her eyes danced at his expression, but she laid a hand on his. “If you‟ve had both men and women, you know there‟s no denying the man is a feast for the senses. He‟s just powerful, and…” When she sought the explanation, he had it ready. “Commanding. Completely in charge of himself and everyone around him. A hundred percent Dominant. Hard for any woman to resist.”

His tone remained neutral, but she couldn‟t argue with any of it, or deny what was left unsaid.
Unless the woman was a Mistress.
Marguerite‟s situation was an unusual one Chloe knew that, even with her minimal exposure to that world. Two Dominants didn‟t often come together the way Marguerite and Tyler had.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she admitted. “But joking aside, he loves Marguerite with every cell of his being. It‟s so obvious, that‟s what adds to how wonderful I think he is. It makes him something different to me. He‟s so good to her and…even before what happened to me, Gen and I knew there were terrible things in her past that made her how she is. Was. You still see it in her, but he‟s healing a lot of that. The open wounds are becoming scars.” She gave him a steady look. “I guess you know some of this. How long have you two known one another?” His fingers tightened on hers. “Marguerite and I were in an orphanage together.

When she was fourteen and I was six. I was there about six months before I was adopted.”

“Wow. I knew she said you were childhood friends, but I didn‟t realize.” She digested that. “You kept in touch all these years.”

“No. I didn‟t know where she was until a few years back, when I saw her at The Zone. Even then, she didn‟t recognize me, but I knew her. I eventually let her know, and we renewed the friendship.”

“That‟s not fate, that‟s divine intervention.” She shook her head, amazed. “I mean, what are the odds? Is that why you walked her down the aisle, because she was a link to your past? Or her past, rather?”

Brendan lifted a shoulder, drew her hands closer to him, pulling her attention back to his face. “In a way. Chloe, I think it‟s time—”

“Brendan.”

Chloe‟s gaze rose at the address, but not so quickly that she didn‟t notice Brendan stiffen before he raised his attention to the man who‟d approached their table. He was tall, lean and athletic like Brendan, making her wonder if he was a fellow swim team member. Handsome face and stylishly fashioned brown sandy hair showed off a movie star jaw line and prominent cheekbones. He had a model‟s face, with a pair of sea green eyes to match. His mouth was held in a way that gave Chloe a moment‟s unease though, his eyes a little too probing as they shifted between them.

“Haven‟t seen you for awhile. You don‟t usually stop by here this time of day. Still swimming at the Y in the mornings?”

“Yeah.” Brendan rose, offered a hand, the handshake of men who were acquainted but who hadn‟t seen one another in awhile, though Chloe noted the touch lingered a little longer than would have been expected. She couldn‟t tell who‟d prolonged the contact, though. “This is my friend Chloe. Chloe, this is an old friend of mine. Tim.” Before her lips could form a pleasant greeting or she could offer her hand, Tim‟s gaze had returned to Brendan, dismissing her so curtly it left her blinking. “Looks like you‟re playing on the other side of the fence now.”

Brendan gave him an even look. “I was always bi, Tim. You knew that.” Tim chuckled, a harsh sound. “You aren‟t bi. You just want one Mistress, and the rest of us are sloppy seconds. You could care less if we have cunts or dicks.” The words, spoken so low and deceptively pleasant, took a moment to sink in, a razor blade hiding inside the façade of a sugar-coated tea cake. Chloe sucked in a startled breath, but it was then she registered what was burning in Tim‟s gaze, what had given her that moment of unease. She hadn‟t been dismissed as much as he simply wouldn‟t look at her, refusing to acknowledge Brendan was with someone else.

“You didn‟t have to stop and talk to us,” Brendan said, just as low, but the gray in his eyes had darkened to match the storm clouds outside, the glitters of green like the flashes of lightning. “If the only reason you did is to be an asshole, you can just keep going.”

“Does she know she‟ll never measure up to your precious Mistress? Of course, looking at her, I doubt she‟s man enough to take you up the ass, anyway.” That caught the attention of some of the nearer tables, and Chloe felt a flush burn across her cheeks. Brendan‟s expression changed. The current of rage that jettisoned through him was strong as the vibrating thunder. When he surged forward, she reacted instinctively. She slid between the two of them, pressing her back firmly to Brendan‟s chest, putting a quelling hand on Tim‟s.

In hindsight, it told her something pretty significant about how she felt with Brendan. She‟d become far more timid about inserting herself into a potentially volatile situation, but this time she hadn‟t hesitated. Of course, once there, surrounded by combustible violence, her mind was jerked back to the memory of a face thrust into hers, saliva spraying her as his screamed accusations hurt her ears.

She struggled past that. Though she was standing between two men simmering with past ill feeling, her head barely coming up to their chins, Brendan would never hurt her, even if it meant backing down from a fight. Nor would he let anyone hurt her.

She knew it. Because she knew that, she stayed where she was, hoping it would defuse before the young female manager, even now glancing over at them warily, called the cops.

“You son of a bitch,” Brendan said, trying to keep his voice down. “I‟ve done nothing to deserve that from you. And she sure as hell hasn‟t. Apologize to her, or I‟m going to ruin that bleach job you‟ve had done on your teeth.”

“She‟s protective,” Tim ignored him to give Chloe a mocking look. “Like a cute Pomeranian.”

Chloe gritted her teeth. “Seems to me you weren‟t enough for him, either, because he‟s not with you.”

“No one‟s enough for him, sweetheart,” Tim scoffed. “Except his Mistress Marguerite. She‟s the only one he‟s ever begged to brand him like her personal slave.” Brendan went rigid behind her, his hands closing on her biceps, whether to steady her or thrust her out of the way, she didn‟t know. But she couldn‟t move anyhow. She blinked. “W-what?”

Brendan said something else to Tim, but she didn‟t hear it. Instead, she was spinning back to the very first night Brendan had stayed with her. When she‟d first seen the brand. She remembered how she‟d come out of the bathroom, looked at it while he‟d been lying on his stomach. The way she‟d pressed her mouth to it, with the odd idea she was overriding someone else‟s claim on him.

She thought about the
fleur de lis
, the way his eyes changed when she passed her fingers over it.
I won’t refuse to answer any question you ask, but I’m requesting that you hold
off on that one… I don’t want to scare you off. I like being with you too much.

Studying her face, Tim nodded with satisfaction, stepped back. “I‟ll see you around, Brendan. Payback‟s a bitch, isn‟t it?”

“You‟re a coward,” Brendan said with venom. “You‟re too scared to strike out at your real target. Which is a good thing, because if she didn‟t finish the job she started, her husband sure as hell would. You‟re still running scared, Tim. Being an abusive bully and running scared.”

“Excuse me,” Chloe mumbled. She pushed away from them both, not really caring if they pounded one another to crumb cake. Heedless of the rain, which was still falling but fortunately had gone to a more gentle drizzle, she got out the door, hardly aware of the people coming in that she bulled her way through.

Her mind was swirling with it. Marguerite. Mistress Marguerite. The brand. The way Brendan acted toward Marguerite, and her toward him. Then her mind dragged her to how protective M was.
Take care of yourself or we will do it for you…

What better way than to send her someone who would watch over her, show an almost inhuman propensity for putting her needs before his? No lover acted like that, male or female.

No, it made no sense. Marguerite wasn‟t duplicitous. But she was very secretive, and Chloe didn‟t completely understand this odd world of Domination and submission.

Particularly what a Mistress could or couldn‟t command a slave to do.

She closed her mind. It was easier to think of nothing, because behind the pain of betrayal was the return of nightmares, the feel of brutal hands, the insidious whispers through the night.

Slut, whore, liar. None of what you think is real…

“Chloe.”

His shout made her feet move more quickly. She couldn‟t stand the idea of him touching her, being near her. She was a billion years old, and the touch of another organism, anything living, was capable of disintegrating her, just like those bones under glass she‟d seen at a museum once when she was young. Before she was nine, before she realized that everyone was like those bones, and they all lived in fragile containment environments, so easily shattered.

She yelped as she was forcibly jerked backward, a moment before she‟d have stepped off the curb into the four-lane Tampa traffic. Horns and squealing wheels blasted open the door of her emotional fog like a SWAT team entering, ratcheting up her heart rate and adrenaline so abruptly pain grabbed her chest. She struggled against the arms holding her like iron bands, fighting to be free. Oddly, she realized she still had hot chocolate taste on her tongue, the remembered pleasure of a few minutes before.

“You really need to
not
do that when you‟re upset,” Brendan muttered in her ear.

“Chloe, calm down. Breathe. Just breathe. You‟re okay.” He got her to one of the coffeehouse benches set under the spreading canopy of a couple live oaks, providing some coverage from the rain.

He eased her head down to her knees but she pushed against him, letting him know her chest hurt and she needed to sit up. While he backed off, he remained cloyingly close, his hand seeking her fingers. She pulled them out of reach, crossed her arms over her chest.

As she oriented herself, she realized Tim was a few feet away, his face white, short of breath. Apparently he wasn‟t a totally unredeemable asshole, because he‟d run out here with Brendan when they both realized she wasn‟t aware of her surroundings.

“She okay?” He spoke tersely.

“Go away, Tim.” Brendan‟s voice was flat, dangerous. “You don‟t want to be here.” The face of Brendan‟s former lover became wooden, but he nodded, turned away.

In a matter of steps he was out of her field of vision, probably headed to the parking area. Vaguely she wondered what flavor latte he‟d gotten from the shop before he chose to ruin her day.

Brendan‟s awkward silence cut her, but his words were little better. He cleared his throat. “Would you like me to go get your hot chocolate?” The half snort, half hysterical chuckle spat from her lips like a curse, full of scorn and self-deprecation. “Sure. Why not? I mean, you don‟t want to let five bucks go to waste, just because I feel… Hell, how
am
I supposed to feel about this?”

“However you want.”

“Of course. Of-fucking-course.” Chloe surged up and rounded on him. “It‟s always about what I want, what I feel. So what, did she order you to do whatever I needed if I called you?”