Chapter Six
By the time Greer found me, I was two glasses into the bottle of pinot noir and hadn't said a word since Reed walked away.
Mina had left me alone to mingle with her guests, though she did check on me occasionally to ask how I fared–to which I smiled and nodded and waited for her to leave again so I could continue processing my life.
Sliding in beside me, Greer nudged my arm. “What’s with you?” She leaned forward to block my line of sight and I focused my eyes on her. “You’re way more freaked out by this than I thought you would be.” She looked around at the other people at the booths and tables filling the room, then back at me. “God, I hope you haven’t offended anyone with that look on your face.”
“He’s here,” I whispered.
“What?”
I grabbed her arm. “Reed. Is. Here.”
“The old man?” She scrunched her nose up, then shrugged. “Whatever. To each their own, I guess.”
“No, you idiot, the young one. The hot one. My fucking boss,” I growled.
Greer’s eyes widened. “Shut. Up.” She whipped her head around to scan the crowd. “Where?”
Closing my eyes, I leaned into her, trying to tuck my face into her shoulder. “I don’t know. I can’t find him now.”
Greer pushed my head up to look into my eyes. “Well, not with that attitude. Come on.”
My eyes widened. “No way. I’m not going to go looking for him.”
“Fine. I will.” She shrugged and began to slide out of the booth. “Just don’t forget that I have no idea what he looks like, so I’ll have to go up to every hot guy and ask him if his name is Cab–”
“Greer!” I hurried out of the booth and tugged on her hand. “Shh!”
“Guess you’ll have to help me look after all.” She winked, then leaned toward me, scanning the area. “Don’t worry. Lacey said there’s a good hour before the fashion show, so we have plenty of time to find him.”
“Great.”
Mina spotted us and strode over. “Oh good, you’re here.” She rubbed our arms as she looked back and forth between Greer and me. “I think Rylan might be a little out of her comfort zone tonight.”
Greer snorted. “You think?” They shared a little chuckle at my expense, then Greer motioned out toward the club. “Lacey told me there are, like, rooms and stuff…?”
Mina nodded, looking at me pointedly. “If you feel comfortable, you can explore. During our monthly events for new members, some of the regulars have an open-door policy.” She turned me and pointed down a hallway opposite of the entrance. “We also have some viewing rooms down the hall.”
“And we can just, like, watch people…?” Greer asked.
“Yes, if you’re comfortable with that, of course.”
“Well, I am.” Greer turned to me. “Are you?”
“Yeah. Totally,” I lied.
And not very well, judging by the look Greer shot me.
Mina smiled sympathetically. “You can always leave, Rylan, remember that. You can come right back to this booth anytime you want. Voyeurism isn’t for everyone, and consent runs both ways. Anyone participating in a public scene tonight has consented, but you have to be comfortable too, okay?”
I nodded, swallowing past the lump of nerves gathering in my throat.
“She’ll be fine. She read Fifty Shades of Grey, like, three times.”
My eyes widened. She didn’t just say that. Greer didn’t just compare a book written on a very loose understanding of BDSM to an actual, real life fetish club.
And she didn’t just do so in front of the owner of said club.
I imagined it.
Please tell me I imagined it.
“Not exactly the same thing,” Mina said, a slight frown drawing her brows together.
Ugh, I didn’t imagine it.
“But I appreciate the sentiment.” She looked at me and leaned forward. “Safe, sane, and consensual, Rylan, that’s our motto. Nothing happens to you here without consent, not even witnessing things that might make you uncomfortable.” She pointed to a man dressed in a black vest and an almost medieval looking floor-length skirt. “That is what we call a Dungeon Guard, or DG for short. He’s here to help my guests, to keep everyone safe, to answer any questions that may arise while you’re here in the Rabbit Hole. There are DGs located throughout the underground.”
“Dungeon guards, see, Ry? It’s all good.”
I laughed, then quickly covered my mouth. As if the word dungeon made anything ‘all good’. “Sorry,” I said, “I laugh when I get nervous.”
“So I’ve seen.” Mina winked, and I died a little. Of course she hadn’t forgotten my earlier reaction to seeing Cabot Reed shirtless in a black leather hood.
But could she blame me? Could anyone?
“Go enjoy yourselves. I’ll be here when you’re ready to come back.”
Greer slipped her hand into mine and pulled me forward. “Come on.”
When we’d cleared the dance floor and the crowd of people gathered on it, I tugged Greer into a corner and gave her my best death glare. “I cannot believe you told her I read Fifty Shades.”
She frowned. “But you did.”
“Greer, it’s pretty well known that things weren’t… properly represented in that book. It did a lot for the romance industry, but for people in the actual lifestyle–”
“You sure know a lot about it for someone who doesn’t know a lot about it.”
“I don’t…” Shaking my head, I sighed. “I just read. And pay attention.”
“Well, maybe you should pay less attention. You look like you’re about to come out of your skin, Ry. Relax. We’re just here to ogle them, not sign up for the lifestyle.”
My gaze flicked around, but we were still rather alone in the small alcove I’d pulled us into. Greer laughed. “You should see your face.” She shook her head. “Always so worried about people overhearing me.” She widened her eyes dramatically. “Besides, they should be happy I’m here to watch. Maybe I’ll sign up and they’ll have someone new to play with.”
My mouth dropped open.
Greer flashed a smile. “Speaking of playthings, let’s go find your boss.”
“Oh my god,” I groaned. I would never forgive her for this. Sure, I had a new part-time job upstairs, which was great, but literally everything else about this night was an unforgivable offense on Greer’s part.
I owed her.
Big time.
Huge.
She pulled me forward, stopping behind a crowd gathered around an open room. Surrounded by three walls, this front wall was wide open, perfect for watching whatever happened inside.
I pushed up on my tiptoes to look over the top of the heads in the crowd and spotted a man with his back to us. A black leather hood covered his head, but I recognized those strong shoulders, that olive skin.
The massive Reed Publishing tree tattoo that stretched from the mounds of his ass cheeks peeking over the tops of his jeans, up his back, and curved around each perfect shoulder.
I lowered quickly, panic seizing my chest like a vise.
What do I do?
Greer lowered to a squat to join me on the floor, eyes wide. “What are we doing down here?” she whispered loudly. Thank God for the steady rhythm of bass in the entire underground area. No one even turned around or acknowledged us in any way.
She searched my gaze, her lips pulling into a smile as she realized. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
I gulped. I could lie to her…
If I was in any way, shape, or form good at lying.
She licked her lips, then stood quickly, yanking me up with her by the elbows. She slid her hand into mine and tugged me forward, skirting around the edge of the gathered crowd until we were practically front and center for the show.
My heart beat a frantic rhythm in my ears, eclipsing even the music.
All he had to do was turn around and he’d see me. Front and fucking center like a rabid fangirl.
Which I was, but shhh. Mind your business.
Greer squeezed my hand but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the powerful man in front of me to look at her. Reed stalked around the room without even acknowledging the crowd, hands flexing at his sides. He murmured to himself, but I couldn’t hear the words, just the soft melodic tone of a deep, rumbly voice that would now haunt my sleep.
He walked further into the room and my gaze caught on the rest of the scene in front of me.
A brunette woman in nothing but a red lace bra and matching lace panties was strapped to a giant wooden X with her back to us. Spread eagle, each ankle and each wrist were fastened to the cross with leather straps. Angry red welts marred the back of each thigh.
He hadn’t been talking to himself, but speaking to her, which made me even more curious to know what he’d been saying. But as I strained to hear him over the rush of my pulse in my ears, it was apparent their conversation wasn’t for those of us watching. We could bear witness, but their words were for only them.
And the pull of longing in my chest shocked me.
I wanted that, wanted to be a part of that.
Wanted his whispered words to be mine. Only mine.
I was almost afraid to blink, for fear I’d miss something. My mouth was dry, my lips parted. I waited on baited breath for whatever came next.
Reed reached up and gathered all of the woman’s thick brown hair in his hands, then leaned forward to whisper in her ear and I found myself leaning forward too. He pulled her hair back into a ponytail, then gingerly rested it over one of her shoulders, revealing a small scattering of star tattoos. Like a galaxy, they spread over her skin like freckles from her shoulder blade and up her throat to her ear.
Reed leaned forward again to whisper in her ear, dragging his palm slowly down her back.
A shiver traveled down mine.
He walked to the left wall of the room and I followed each movement he made, transfixed by his every move. He retrieved two black whips, one for each hand.
They had dozens of long strips of leather attached to the end, rather than one long piece. Swallowing hard, I watched as he positioned himself behind her, his bare feet planted shoulder’s width apart.
He was so sexy, so powerful, stalking her like a predator, yet… doting on her tenderly. I couldn’t rectify the harshness of his stance or the terrifying things he held in his hands with the sweet murmur of his voice.
It was like…
I turned to face Greer, my eyes wide as I realized. This was exactly like the man I’d spent my day trying to figure out. A complete contradiction.
Hard and soft. Cruel and caring.
That was Cabot Reed. He wasn’t one thing or the other, he was one thing and the other.
Greer searched my gaze, trying to read my mind like only a best friend could, then a whip cracked against tile and we both turned toward the scene unfolding in front of us.
In a slow, rhythmic motion, Reed circled the whips in his hands, one after the other. The wind kicked off of them, tickling my skin and blowing the loose strands of the woman’s hair.
He stepped forward, closer to her, but still, she didn’t flinch. Each circling motion of the whip brought the multiple strands of leather closer to her skin, but she didn’t move, didn’t react.
Because they hadn’t even touched her yet.
I was mesmerized by the precise way he guided the whips, stepping forward then back, closer to her and then further away. It was a dance. His movements, a performance. He displayed his prowess, his complete control, yet never connected with her skin.
She whimpered. Her body trembled.
Was she afraid?
My pulse sped. Should we help her? Do something before he hurts her?
“Please, Master,” she begged.