Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (65 page)

I notice a few differences from my last visit to Restraint. It’s no longer a shithole. The floor is glossy black. The walls are gray concrete, giving off an industrial feel. There are more booths and seating areas. The red velvet seating is filled to capacity with patrons of every age, sex, and creed.

I notice Syn in her angsty, pissed off glory leaning against the back wall by the entrance to the dungeon. Her hair is purple this evening with razor-cut bangs. She’s wearing leather pants and a
matching shirt that covers her from neck to wrists. The only skin visible is her hands and face. She looks hardcore Domme.

Fate eyes devour her. She worries her lip between her teeth. She looks scared of her little sister. It’s a complete role reversal. Fate looks the part of baby sister. She’s in a flowing, light blue dress and ballet flats. Innocence radiates off of her and its scent captures those closest to us. Hell, it even makes Syn look at us with wide eyes and shake her head. My submissive is Master bait.

I know it’s Ezra by the tension in his shoulders. Cort’s more relaxed; he goes with the flow. Ezra is one of the most serious people I’ve ever met. He leans against the bar surveying his club. It’s a relaxed pose, but every muscle is taut and at the ready.

“Boss, you requested my presence?” I say lightly.
His gunmetal gray eyes pin me mid-step. He isn’t pleased this evening. Fate hides behind me in fear.

“You’re late,” he says under his breath, but I hear it over the pound of the music. No doubt everyone heard the venom in his hiss.

“I wasn’t given a time, Sir. You only have to tell me once and I will comply.” I try to calm him. He’s pissed at me in particular and I don’t know why.

“What di
d I do?” I whine like a child.

“Later,” his voice is glass-on-glass- cold and grating.

“Come with me,” his long fingers enclose my wrist and pull. “Fate stays here.”

“Wait!” I dig my heel in. “She can’t stay alone.” Men and women alike are hovering like sharks in the water scenting fresh blood.

“Kristal, watch her.” He says impatiently.

“Go behind the bar and help,
Kris. You’ll be okay.” I hope.

She does as she’s told. A few people back off in disappointment. Some belly up to the bar
trying to gain her attention.

“You watch her. If anyone touches her, it’s your funeral. I mean it, Kris. You already have a punishment coming. Earn my trust back, watch out for her.” I lean on my palms and bend over the bar getting into Kristal’s face. She sees I’m dead serious and nods her head emphatically.

Ezra pulls me though the club like an angry parent. Syn quickly types in a code at the door and we march right through. She follows us confidently.

I want to get a good look at the dungeon, but the lights are off and he pulls me towards the back hallway. I’m yanked into a long room that’s dominated by a conference table and chairs. I see all of the Masters, and Dalton seated. I don’t have time to acknowledge anyone. Ezra slams me into a chair hard enough that my tailbone smashes into the seat.

“Ezra,” Marc’s voice warns.

“Don’t!” Ezra points at his Master and sits to his left. They stare at each other. I sigh in relief. At least I’m no longer the object of Ezra’s attention.

I quickly look around. Marcus is at the head of the table having a stare-down with Ezra on his left. On his right is Dexter. Next to Dexter sits Cortez. Syn glares at Cort from directly across the table. He smirks back at her, but his eyes are on his Master and partner. In between me and Dexter is Whitt. He’s staring at the silent fight, too. His eyes are scrunched in confusion.

“Why aren’t you next to Syn?” I ask Dalton with the tilt of my head. He sits on my left.

“She punched me earlier,” he says with pride. Sure enough, he has a small red spot on his chin.

“I’m not a Master yet. She didn’t think I shou
ld be here.” He says snidely.

“What did you say to her?” I ask Dalton under my breath and Whitt’s chest quivers as he t
ries to suppress his laughter.

“You don’t want to know,” Dalton smiles evilly. I can tell he wants to be a little prick, but he intrigu
es me.

“Maybe I wanna know,” I muse under my breath. He laughs q
uietly and shakes his head no.

Ezra pulls the hood off his head. He looks furious. He finger combs his short blond hair and run
s his hands and over his face.

“What’s your malfunction, Son?” Marcus asks in astonishment. I guess this isn’t Ezra’s usual behavior.

“You were all called here to discuss the public opening of the dungeon. I need to speak to you all individually. Master?” He says snidely giving the floor to Marc.

“Okay,” Marc draws out. “Tomorrow evening we will allow patrons to apply for membership to the dungeon. There will be an application and certain restrictions. We need you to monitor the membership and make sure everyone is safe. Only members of Restraint and their guests have access to the dungeon. Those who abuse their position will have their membership revoked. We will try this out for a while and see how it goes. We may expand or close depending on how this works out. Ezra will give you your duties. I’m sorry to ask more of your free time, but it’s a necessary evil.”

“Dexter, my room,” Ezra commands and stands so abruptly that his chair hits the wall. I hope he calms down before it’s my turn.

As soon as he follows Dexter from the meeting room a collective breath is released. His tension was suffocating.

“What the fuck?” I ask anyone who will answer.

“I haven’t a clue,” Marc says confused.

People begin filing out to the hallway. When it’s just our Master, Whitt, and me left, Whitt leans over and whispers into my ear.

“Sorry about what you’ll see tonight.  I have to act
as I always do.” He’s somber.

“I know,” I say quietly.
“It’s fine.” He snorts at me.

His eyes dart to the side and then he kisses me softly. His lips dance over mine. I try to keep up, but he commands the kiss; I’m its passenger. He pulls away slowly looking into my eyes.

“If it bothers you we will figure something out.” He says earnestly.

“I. Will. Be.
Fine.” I enunciate each word.

I have to be fine. This is how life will be. We may be married, but we’ll never be a couple. It’s a sad reality, but nonetheless true.

“Okay, if you’re not,” he laughs at my expression. “We’ll revisit this conversation. Remember what happens when you don’t talk to me,” he teases. His eyes heat in remembrance. I blush and look away.

“Oh, I learned that lesson, Daniel. We won’t have a repeat.” I feel shy all of the sudden. I can’t look at him.

“Hmm… It’s going to be a very long month.” He kisses my cheek. “Well, I guess I’ll go hunting while Ezra rakes everyone over the coals.”

Marcus shuts the door after Whitt leaves. He leans against the door and gazes at me. His brown eyes are so intense that I squirm. I stand and start pacing the room.

“You really don’t know what’s wrong with Ezra?” I count the chairs as I walk around the table. We have a lot of room for expansion. I wonder who’ll join us next.

“No,” he heaves a heavy sigh.

I make a pass in front of him and he snags my arm and embraces me.

“I thought we were just Master and minion, Marcus.” I try for snotty, but I ultimately sound sad.

“I need comfort, as do you.” He pulls us to his chair and cuddles me on his lap. He rubs my shoulders and back. We don’t speak.

I listen to his breathing- soft and deep. I hear muffled conversation in the hall. Dexter’s deep voice is angry. Syn says
oh hell, no!
I want to know what’s going on, but I wouldn’t miss this comfort for the world.

“Are you alright after your initiation and Whitt?” Marcus breathes against my throat.

I want to yell at him that he gave me away. That he didn’t have the balls to declare me as his and him as mine. I love Whitt, but it’s not the same as I feel for the man whose arms surround me; whose breath warms my neck. His scent fills my nose and drugs me like a powerful narcotic thrumming through my veins. After two seconds with this man I can finally relax. He’s who I would pick as my lover and be happy for the rest of my life, but he doesn’t want me the same way.

“I don’t regret marrying him if that’s what you mean. After seeing my children hug, laugh, and chat while I watched, nothing would make me think it wasn’t the best idea in the world. I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the arrangement. It’s the type of marriage I said I’d never have. It’s based on love, but not the kind a husband feels for a wife or a wife for a husband. This will either work flawlessly or destroy me. He wouldn’t have been my choice of a life partner. But that choice was ripped from me,” I whisper. 

“I’m sorry about Grant,” he says sadly.

“Who says I was speaking of Grant,” Queen’s rough, deep voice erupts from my throat.

Marcus gasps and clenches me tightly, knowing exactly who I was speaking of.

“I told Whitt I loved him and I meant it. I’ve never spoken those words to a man. I told him I’d make love to him on his birthday and I meant it. I look forward to it. Does that make me a bad person? I’m in love with someone who isn’t my husband, someone I can’t have. Instead of curling into a ball and feeling nothing, I feel alive. I shouldn’t want anyone but my husband or the one I’m in love with, but even Aaron tripped my trigger. I wasn’t meant to be in a traditional marriage. Perhaps, I’m a different breed of human that can’t live by society’s standards or maybe I’m just fucked in the head.”

“Or maybe you have finally found where you belong.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve only known this type of living. I don’t know how the normal people live. I was young when I lost my parents and they were a love match. I was lucky that my grandmother was an incredible woman. Where I failed was when I married my wife. I don’t regret it for the same reasons you don’t regret Whitt. I love Ezra and Cortez with every fiber of my being. I love Aaron and Divina as well. Whitt loves you, but let me tell you, he loves the kids more. I don’t say that to upset you or make what you feel for each other less, but isn’t it true for you, too?” He coaxes to soften the blow.

“It’s because they can’t take care of themselves yet,” I a
gree with him wholeheartedly. 

“Ah- perhaps, but it never fades. Yes, what Cort and I do is inappropriate on some levels. But as I said to you last night, he isn’t my son and he’s an adult. He could say no. We both know that my force is imaginary. You could say no, as could he. It’s just the dynamic we have. It’s the parts we play to feed our needs.”

“I don’t know what my needs are because they’re all over the place,” I finally admit.

“That, my dear, is something that takes a lifetime to learn and to overcome. It’s just the tip of the iceberg at our age. Imagine how lost Whitt feels.”

His arms clench me until we’re fused together tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says sadly.

“For what?” My heart flutters in my chest. He’s sorry I love him.

“It’s better left unsaid, don’t you think, Regina? Once it’s said you can never take it back.” He wants to take back his feelings for me. Tears prickle my eyes. I hold them wide open refusing to allow the moisture to escape.

“And you want to take it back?” My voice quivers.

“Not the words or the emotions. It’s the feeling of hope they would elicit. Someday I’d love to tell you my feelings, but I fear my past will squelch any feelings you have for me. I don’t regret what I’ve done. I regret the toll my actions have taken on you particularly. Someday you may hate me. This is why I don’t want you to say anything you may regret later.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Marcus,” I throw his own words back at him. 

“I know. That’s why there’s no need to profess anything, Regina.” I raise my face to his. His full lips are parted on a breath. His eyes are heavy-lidded and fogged over. His face is flushed.  I want to kiss him so badly that I ache. I don’t mean to compare, but I can’t help it. Whitt is thrilling and exciting. He fills me with peace. But Marcus enflames my soul and challenges me- completes me.

His fingers clench against my back. He stops breathing as he wars with himself.

“Regina,” a voice that sounds like fingernails down a chalkboard interrupts
our moment. “It’s your turn.”

Ezra glares at us. We weren’t kissing. We aren’t even sitting in a salacious manner. It’s the drugged look on our faces that makes it obvious. If he had any doubts about whether or not we’d
been lovers, he doesn’t now. The expression on his face screams that he’s always known. I feel my pain in the air. He’ll get his retribution. He can’t take it out of his father, but he can on me.
I slowly rise from Marc’s lap in trepidation.

“Ezra,” Marc warns.

Ezra’s lips twitch and his eyes go cold. Marc’s fingers grip my wrist. He doesn’t want me to leave with his son.

Fuck it.

I lean down and kiss the corner of Marc’s mouth and I never take my eyes from Ezra. It doesn’t matter what I do, he’s going to play with me anyway. I could be respectful or disobedient, and he would give me the same treatment. I don’t know what happened since early this morning. He didn’t hate me when he was fucking my ass. He took me softly and with great care. If he could have a do-over, he would literally rip me a new asshole.