Newmar, Lola - Devlin's Beast [Scarlett Rose and the Seven Longhorns 5] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever) (7 page)

Brock looked over his right shoulder just in time to see Devlin approach. As he looked him over, he realized the tall, dark cowboy was no doubt one of the club’s sexiest Doms. He wore black leather pants like a second skin, and his leather vest flaunted his large arms, letting every sub know he wasn’t one to fuck with lightly.

A soft groan came from below. He looked down to see his other sub, Mitchell, tuck his chin into his chest, his shoulders slumped in sadness. Mitchell had obviously noticed Brock’s reaction to the tall drink of sweet tea walking over.

“No need for that, pet,” he reassured him as he reached down and stroked his head. “Just scoping out the scenery, is all.”

He looked straight into Devlin’s soft mint-green eyes, and there was no mistaking the concern he saw there. Being the owner of a hardcore BDSM club had taught him to quickly recognize that please-help-me look all too often thrown his way on a daily basis. Hell, sometimes he’d swear it was hourly.

“Shouldn’t you be eagerly preparing for a very important scene right now, Devlin?” Brock asked as he held his hand out, which Devlin didn’t hesitate to shake. Brock had gotten word early that morning that the most extreme of the Lenox brothers planned to drive in town and officially collar the divine creature he and his brothers shared.

“I do, but this is the only chance I have with you alone while Scarlett is preoccupied in the back.”

It wasn’t like a Lenox to keep something from the ever-famous Scarlett. Since she’d entered their lives recently, it seemed the men couldn’t breathe if the sexy little thing wasn’t around. Brock listened intently.

“Do you perhaps know a young blonde woman with the last name Rose? She comes in with another older blonde and a young male submissive.”

Of course, Brock immediately thought of Alisa Rose and the other stooges, but he maintained his poker face. “Devlin, you know I can’t answer a question like that. Doing so would break the confidentiality agreement between me and my clients. Can I ask why you seem so desperate to know who this woman is?”

Devlin seemed to hesitate for a nanosecond before he replied, “I just know that she happens to be a very evil, unethical woman, and I am advising you to keep a close eye on her.”

Brock felt his guts tighten in instinctual warning. He’d had a nagging feeling that Alisa would be nothing but trouble since she stumbled through Whipped Cream’s door over a year ago. He made a mental note to call back the Razo brothers and insist they stay away from the Rose Leach Clan, as Brock often liked to call them.

“Is there anything else that is currently concerning you, Mr. Lenox?” He consciously tried to keep his tone as even and generic as possible.

It was obvious there was much, much more on Devlin’s mind, but the cowboy pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No, Master Brock, there isn’t.”

* * * *

Devlin had exited their guestroom exactly three minutes and seventeen seconds before. Just as he’d instructed, she’d been staring at the ticking antique grandfather clock tucked in the corner of the dark room. He’d told her to walk out of the door exactly five minutes after he left. She was then to go to the room five doors down on her left and knock. There she would meet a staff member who would guide her through the rest of the scene preparation and would remain with her until she met with Devlin again right before the scene was acted out.

She felt her palms grow damp as the second hand ticked a little faster than she had hoped. Closer and closer to the five minute mark, and then she would have to step it up and go through with all this. Knowing how important this Lifestyle was to her destined mate gave her encouragement to push on and stop being such a darn pansy. As she talked herself up, she began to believe her own praises.

She stared straight ahead into her reflection in one of several mirrors hanging on the wall. With her shoulders relaxed and her abs tucked in, she straightened her posture and held her chin up. If she could cheat death several times in one week and still manage to keep seven horny longhorn-shifter cowboys satisfied, she could have the confidence to tackle anything.

When she glanced back at the clock, she jumped to her feet. Five minutes and twenty-two seconds. She hurried out the door and practically ran to the room she was instructed to meet her concierge at.

Kno
—

She hadn’t even completed a full knock before the door swung open. “You’re late,” said the petite, curly-haired platinum blonde that stood in front of her. A pair of bright violet eyes emphasized the classic beauty of the stranger’s perfect face. The young woman looked to be only slightly younger than Scarlett’s own twenty-one years and had a similar body type, only her breasts were a little more on the small side compared to Scarlett’s ample chest size. She was very tan, and Scarlett noticed the bright contrast of her tan lines beneath the spaghetti straps of her black silk camisole. She wasn’t wearing a collar like many of the women in the club, which made Scarlett feel a little less like an outsider since she wasn’t wearing one, either.

“My name is Jane,” she finally said, holding her hand out in greeting.

Scarlett shook her hand and giggled. “What an ironic name.”

Jane’s eyebrows knit together as she crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg in a sassy stance. “What do you mean,
ironic
?”

Scarlett’s smile fell when she realized how defensive Jane had grown, and she hurried to explain herself. “It’s just that you’re such a beautiful woman. Isn’t the term ‘plainly Jane’?”

Scarlett felt relieved when a small smile formed on Jane’s lips. “The term is ‘plain Jane.’” She stepped back to allow Scarlett to step into her room. “And thank you for the compliment.” Jane closed the door behind her and locked it.

Jane’s guest room was about three times bigger than the guest room she and Devlin shared. In fact, it wasn’t much of a guest room at all. It looked much more like a very glamorous dressing room straight from a girl’s fantasy. There were several racks of clothing and lingerie standing throughout the room, all organized neatly and perfectly by color. Scarlett counted four vanities, all covered in familiar-looking designer labels. It made her a little happy to know the logos were sparking past knowledge, an optimistic sign that her memory was slowly but surely returning to normal.

Jane sat on the edge of one of the vanity counter tops, revealing just a flash of her black silk G-string panty as she crossed her ankles and motioned for Scarlett to sit in the stool in front of her. As she sat, she couldn’t help but notice how out of place Jane’s pretty, pedicured, baby-pink toenails looked in the building they sat in.

“What you are about to participate in, Scarlett, is what we in the Lifestyle call a ‘scene.’”

The sound of Jane’s professional-sounding voice took Scarlett’s attention away from the young blonde’s baby-pink toenails. Scarlett knew the definition of that term. Devlin had just explained it on the road trip to the city that morning. “A scene is a fantasy acted out,” Scarlett interjected, “either choreographed or done improv-style. A clear communication is made between all consensual adults before, during, and after the scene.”

Jane smiled beautifully. “Someone’s been paying attention, I see.”

“It’s important to me that I show interest in my mate’s…um…hobbies.”

Jane’s head fell back as she roared with laughter. “Hobbies. I like that.”

Scarlett shrugged. “Not only am I madly in love with him, but Devlin has saved my life recently. Participating in this scene tonight is the very least I could ever do to show my gratitude.”

Platinum curls swayed as Jane softly shook her head. “Now don’t you sound like a fool in love,” she drawled softly, a hint of mourning in her tone. She stood from the counter and walked over to a rack of silk kimono robes.

“Do you not believe in love?” Scarlett called out to her, curious as to why such a pretty girl would make such a cynical remark.

“Oh, I believe in love,” Jane responded from across the room. “Love is as real as you and me as we stand here. But its power can be as poisonous as it can be cathartic.” She walked back over holding a white lace robe and a white silk sash and stood in front of Scarlett. “What I believe in is knowledge, education. A smart girl possesses a power far greater than love. I wasn’t always uncollared, you see.” Her violet-blue eyes darkened and shimmered with unshed tears as she appeared to dive deep in thought, her features tight with concentration.

“What does it mean to be collared and uncollared?” Scarlett had been curious about this since she’d first come to visit Whipped Cream. She’d been too shy to ask one of her mates about them, but she had to admit she’d always felt a strange envy as she looked on at collared submissives. There was something about that collar that made her wish for it.

“When you are collared, you are in a committed relationship that has been officially recognized by fellow peers of the Lifestyle.”

“But Devlin and I are in a committed relationship, and I never received one.” She hoped it had nothing to do with the fact she’d just recently became sexually experienced. Maybe Devlin felt she was still much too green to deserve a public announcement of their union.

Jane shook her head, more curls bouncing with the soft movement. “Officially recognized meaning the couple participated in a collaring ritual in front of club participants. It’s almost like a wedding and proposal rolled in one in some ways. Many times, the Dom will surprise his sub with the collaring ceremony. It’s a very special time in sub’s life, and it will be something you will always remember.”

“So when do I get my collar?” She wanted that collar so bad she could taste it. She’d noticed that while several subs wore basic black collars, some wore ones in pretty dyed leathers, diamond-studded straps, and even some were made from exotic materials. They were all so pretty, but Scarlett cared very little about all that nonsense. She’d wear floss around her neck if Devlin decided to collar her with it. Only she knew that Devlin would make sure she’d have a pretty one. He may have been an obnoxious Dom at times, but he was still a thoughtful gentleman at heart.

“That’s entirely up to your Master. He decides when he feels the two of you are ready as a couple to make their bond official and permanent. This can take years, but I’ve witnessed it happen within hours.”

“Hours? Wow,” Scarlett whispered. She knew firsthand what it was like to fall in love at first sight, to instinctively know immediately that the person standing in front of you is The One. She knew because she’d gotten that feeling seven times. It was a romantic thought that two people could meet at Whipped Cream and would come to declare their undying love in front of their entire community just moments after introducing themselves to each other.

Scarlett wasn’t sure how to ask her next question in a tactful manner until she realized there really wasn’t one. “So then does that mean you ‘divorced’ the Master who had collared you?”

Jane shook her head. “I wasn’t always a smart girl. In fact, I used to be a very foolish girl. I allowed love to devour my life and brainwash me into trusting a very charming older man. Soon after, I found myself trapped in an abusive relationship that required things from me I shall forever be ashamed to speak of.” Jane pulled a tissue from the Kleenex box sitting on the vanity beside her and blotted the lower rim of her eyes carefully as if not wanting to mess up her perfectly applied mascara.

“I–I’m so sorry bad things happened to you, Jane. I’m sorry some asshole betrayed your trust like that.”

Nodding her head, Jane took several moments to collect herself before she continued. “One night, after a particularly exhausting whipping scene, that…man…fell fast asleep in our guest room, drunk as a skunk. I sneaked out quietly and walked over to Master Brock’s quarters. I told him everything that had been going on in our relationship, and he helped me break away from that monster safely and quickly. Since then, I have made it my mission to educate other newbies on the importance of keeping a clear head in this Lifestyle. It’s dangerous enough for a vanilla to be blinded by what her heart feels.”

“Hold on, a what?” Scarlett asked as she held up a hand.

“A vanilla. That refers to a common man or woman who does not participate in the BDSM Lifestyle.”

“There are so many terms, so many rules.” A headache threatened to pound into her forehead every time she struggled to retain it all as much as she could.

“It can be overwhelming at first, but I can tell you are a very intelligent young woman.” Jane stepped behind Scarlett and helped her into the lace robe. “You’ll learn quickly.”

Scarlett turned to her reflection. The lace robe had no lining, and the large pattern left very little to the imagination. “What’s the point of wearing this? I don’t get it. And what’s with this white thing?” The moment she said the words, she’d answered her own question. Realization dawned on her, and her cheeks immediately set aflame. Almost every inch of the building was black or navy blue. So was the clothing every clubgoer wore. “I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb, aren’t I?”