Mistress of Souls, page 19
“When ye are not at the office, what do ye do for fun?”
“You’ve already experienced what I like to do for fun, Scruffy,” Brad says and winks, taking a sip of the white wine in front of him before grimacing. “This wine is fucking terrible.”
As though he drew her to us with telekinesis, our server skips to our table.
“Sir, do you need something?” she questions, twirling a strand of hair around her finger in a shameless show of flirtation.
It doesn’t bother me. Why should it? Even if she didn’t also flash me the same cute smile, Brad barely pays her any notice. I’ve also never needed to compete with anyone, and I’m not going to start today.
Brad doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes. This wine is abhorrent. Bring me Lagavulin, neat. If you don’t have any, find someone to procure it. I am not drinking this swill,” he says as he hands her his wine glass.
Her mouth pulls into a frown. “Yes, sir, not a problem. I’ll get right on that,” she says, and quickly scampers away.
“Really?” I asked Brad. He just stares at me with a blank expression. “Did ye have to be such an arsehole to her?” My annoyance with him causing my accent to thicken.
Brad responds, “No, but I wanted to. You’ll learn I do what I want when I want.”
Okay then, time to change the topic.
“So yer a whiskey man, we have that in common.”
Before I can ask him more questions about himself, he leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his calloused palms.
“What is it you do, Hunter?”
“I own a construction company. I also maintain a lot of the houses on my pack lands.”
“Interesting,” he states, brushing up his pointer finger over his luscious mouth.
I cannot draw my eyes away from the meticulous, slow drag of his finger. It’s almost hypnotizing. I close my eyes for a moment to get my head and my cock back in the game.
“Fair is fair,” he continues, “what do you do other than manage your business?”
I feel no shame as I proudly announce, “Well, I spend most of my time reading and going to The Snuggle Pit.”
I watch his face closely for his reaction. This will go one of two ways, bloody terrible or he’ll be accepting. I don’t miss the subtle brightness of his uniquely violet eyes. His onyx eyelashes, long and beautiful, fan his cheeks every time he blinks.
“The Snuggle Pit,” he says deadpan.
“Aye, it’s a sex club,” I respond nonchalantly, shrugging and grinning.
His eyebrows almost reach his hairline as he ponders this, but his forehead quickly smooths out as he reaches a decision.
Something cool and not quite solid grazes my calf, startling me, before he kicks my legs further apart under the table. A shadow slowly trails up the seam of my pants, catching on the fabric lightly, straight to my straining erection.
“Tell me more about this sex club. What is it you do there? Do you go there to sleep with beings? Do you like to watch?”
I completely forget about all my other questions for him and fully dive into my description of The Snuggle Pit.
“Actually, I have no had sex there,” I laugh.
The whole time I’m speaking, he continues to massage around my groin, teasing me with this torturous method.
“No, I’m going there to sub for my mistress.”
His movements still, “Your mistress… doesn’t she have a problem with you being out on a date with me?”
I laugh too loudly for the quiet restaurant. “No. Mistress Mariax and I are not exclusive. We both understand that. However, I consider her one of my closest friends, well, other than Charlie.”
The server is back again, interrupting me.
“Your whiskey, Sir,” she announces, placing it in front of Brad. Her hand shakes a little as she pulls away from the glass.
“That will be all,” he says, dismissing her with a flick of his wrist.
I watch all of this silently, not sure I like this side of him. The controlling, dominating force is sexy as hell, but the rudeness is intolerable. That lassie did nothing to warrant his abrupt behavior.
“Seriously, please do not treat people like that. She did nothing wrong.”
Brad’s shadow resumes its ministrations as he sips on his whiskey and ignores my reprimand, swirling it slowly under his nose to inhale the bloom of scents.
I continue from earlier as I was saying, “I am Mistress Mariax’s submissive, but we hang out outside of the club as well—”
He interrupts me. “You seem very fond of this Mariax,” he states coldly.
Why does he care about my fondness for my Cheetie?
“Tell me more about The Snuggle Pit,” he demands.
“There’s not much more to tell. Ye really have to go there if ye want to experience at all,” I explain.
“Is there any kind of security? How does she stop random humans from entering the premises? I’ve never seen a sign advertising a sex club,” he says to explain his prying questions.
“Yeeeah, I’m not going to tell ye that right now.” I say with a flirtatious smile.
His blank façade briefly turns into a glare before smoothing out. He holds up his hands in mock submission.
“You’re right, I should not be prying so much. I am just intrigued.”
“It’s okay, baby,” I tell him. “I had hundreds of questions when I first heard about her sex club. But actually, I’m more involved in just being a submissive there. Several of my wolves are stationed there as bouncers.”
A smile slowly spreads across his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So you have an inside track to The Snuggle Pit.”
“I suppose, but I really only ordered them to be there for her safety.”
The shadow slides away, and I feel the loss of his teasing strokes immediately.
“What is your mistress like? Tell me more about her. You are clearly enamored with her.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess she’s like any fem domme. Her presence fills the entire room with her unique energy. Although, when she’s not at the club, she seems to shrink into herself a bit. Like she doesn’t trust the outside world.”
A slight gasp leaves Brad, like that surprises him.
“Anyway, that’s one of the reasons that I station my wolves there. She might be my dominant, but she has a softer side deep down, even if she doesn’t want it to show. Although I know she can handle herself, it makes me feel better to have members of my pack watching over her. Ye will have to meet her sometime. Maybe we can go to one of her live shows.”
This time when he smiles, it reaches his eyes, crinkling the corner slightly. “That sounds like an excellent idea for a date night,” he replies with enthusiasm.
I reach across the table and capture his hand, smoothing my fingers across his knuckles. The noise in the restaurant dims until it’s all white noise and all I can hear is our breathing.
There is a spark. Much like the one between me and Mariax, and I need to know where this is going. Even if we talked more about my mistress than each other. “So, when can I see ye again?”
The spark between us has never extinguished since that first night in the woods, and I wonder if it ever will.
Chapter 21
Mariax
It has been one long week. I swear my clients’ requests are getting stranger and there are way more complaints.
Truly, all I desire is to torture something. I don’t care if it is human, paranormal, spirit, or a fuckin pixie.
I never thought I would yearn for my job as a torturer, but some of my clients make me almost miss the good ol’ days.
I really should take Hunter up on his offer to visit his cabin in the Pocono Mountains. He always leaves the city for at least a week during the full moon. Obviously, he cannot shift and run around eating people, can he? I wouldn’t care, but the humans get squeamish about that sort of thing.
Maybe it would allow me the reprieve from my thoughts, distract me in a way only Hunter can.
I sit up, running my hands down my face. As I breathe in a sigh, I look down at the paperwork strewn across my desk and groan at how little I have gotten done before my mind has wandered to Hunter and, consequently, him. If he hadn’t ruined everything between us, things could have been so different.
I’m here in the human realm, falling for Hunter, but too terrified to analyze my emotions.
I never had trouble expressing myself before Him.
I left my soul open for that bastard, and it has never been the same since His violent touch poisoned it.
Needing a distraction, I stomp out of my suite and into the hall. The familiar scents of pleasure, lavender, and vanilla assault my senses. I head down the hall, looking for my playroom.
My playroom is one of the best rooms in The Snuggle Pit. Seriously, it has the best toys, and I maintain them religiously. I transform my tail into the one of a kind key to unlock my playroom.
A series of clicks sound as the row of locks behind the door open. I push the panel open and step into the room, closing it behind me.
To my left, the two-way window to the adjacent room reflects a glossy black. With a flick of a button, I can activate the mirror and see everything in the room next door. Besides being my private playroom, I can observe clients or monitor mistresses-in-training like Lauren, thanks to that window.
The wall in front of me holds every punishing device available- canes, whips, chains, belts, skinning knives, ropes, tape, zip ties, wire, handcuffs. I could go on for days.
A spanking bench takes up residence in the right corner. It is one of my favorite tools. I had it hand-crafted by a fae, and it’s spelled to weaken the user enough that breaking free is impossible. The right wall is made up of a giant metal grid. There are hooks and carabiners hooked up in even increments to allow me to position my client subs in any manner I choose.
Gliding over to the grid, I grab a cloth from the clean up bin next to the couch to my right. Usually, the bin is used for cleaning up bodily fluids, but the clothes work fine for polishing too. I polish the hooks.
Wouldn’t want my beauty to get tarnished now, would we?
My mind wanders again, and I swear I hear grunts of pleasure coming from somewhere close. Those dreams have seriously fucked me up.
Maybe I’m feeling a little off today because I know Hunter is out on a date. He doesn’t share information on those he goes out with, and I try my best not to pry, but I’m finding lately that I just want to sink my claws into him so that no one else can have him.
But that’s not how our relationship works.
At least, not yet. I want him to be mine. I want to let him claim me. I want to have sex with him again so badly, but I haven’t tried since he hasn’t approached me about it. I was hoping he’d pop up at my home and fuck my brains out again, but nope.
Instead, he’s out on a silly fucking date while I’m here wanting to get my pussy railed by a big, knotted cock, but instead I’m cleaning hooks.
I grunt. Jealousy isn’t a good color on you, Mar!
Shaking my head and slapping myself upside the back of the head with my tail, I continue my work.
Chapter 22
The Primeval
Hunter’s small home on his pack lands is more spacious inside than I thought. It has an open floor plan and a cozy cabin feel. I don’t enjoy idle moments, but being with him allows my brain enough distraction to be present.
Currently, he’s in the kitchen grilling steaks and sipping whisky. He holds a tumbler in his left hand and uses his right to man the small grill built into his stovetop.
My hands shake slightly with minute tremors of unease. All of my plans are coming to fruition tonight. I know what must be done to rectify my relationship with Mariax. I must destroy her to save her, but it’s not just for her. I’m a selfish bastard. I’ve been jaded and unsure of myself and despise these weak feelings.
I stood on that stage covered in gore for her. My implements of torture were neatly arranged beside me as I caused pain to another instead of her. I would do it again in a heartbeat if that meant she never again had to feel the edge of a knife against her heart, scorching iron melting into her flesh, or bamboo shoots jutting from her body.
In her limited experience with life and other beings, she did not perceive our relationship as dangerous, and as devastating as the fallout was, I would still choose to make her mine.
She was marked by the Potentate of Inferuna, although she didn’t know it. She marked Mariax as a problem, a problem that needed to be solved quickly and efficiently.
Had I allowed the Potentate to act on her plan, Mariax’s mind would have been lost to me forever.
I refocus on the present, observing Hunter in his domestic ways. He’s very secure with who he is in life and what he wants. It makes me vaguely envious that he completes these basic household tasks with a soft smile. Each time he tastes his whisky, he makes a small, pleased sound that goes right to my cock. I’m so absorbed in watching him that I don’t realize he’s speaking to me.
Which only confuses me, as desire wasn’t why I originally crammed myself into his life.
“Brad? Where’d ye go, baby?” he asks huskily.
“Just thinking about a surprise I have for you.” I wink, taking a large sip of the amber liquid from my tumbler.
He sets the tongs down, turning to face the couch. “Aye?”
“Finish cooking, and then maybe I’ll tell you what it is,” I respond mischievously.
Hunter returns to his task. It smells divine, the grease from the steaks popping and sizzling on the griddle somehow comforting. Hunter uses tongs to plate the rare steaks and then adds baked potatoes already dressed from the oven.
We finish eating, and I help clean up the kitchen. It all feels very domestic, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I don’t dwell on it too long before Hunter wraps his thick arms around my chest from behind.
He’s only shorter than me by an inch but surpasses me in bulk. His wide chest expands past either side of my back. He is corded with thick, defined muscles everywhere.
Being in Hunter’s presence makes me miss my little one even more. I’ve been watching from afar and waiting, allowing myself the perfect moment to enter back into her life fully.
A few times, I let her get a whiff of my scent or catch the sight of shadows moving unnaturally. I relished the torment and indecision every time her heart raced, and she thought the strange occurrence might be me. Her utter dismay and fury, like a fine whisky, is to be savored and slowly taken in.
When I would allow her to taste my presence, she would become aroused. I could scent it from miles away. It is embedded in my psyche in a way that will never be removed. Her never-ending need for me plagues her to no end, and nothing could make me more satisfied. Being here on this plane for as long as I have been without her realizing it is telling.
She might hate me, but she craves me all the same.
As Hunter moves about the kitchen, his muscles tense and ripple with the slightest movement, causing a large, tattooed quote in simple script to draw my eye.
“Some books are lies frae end to end,
And some great lies were never penn’d…”
I believe that quote is by the famous Scot, Robert Burns. It tells me a great deal about Hunter in two simple lines. It’s very evident that he is passionate about books, even negating several tattoos he has in their honor.
One I find fascinating is a stack of books that runs down the left side of his ribs. The books are worn and unevenly stacked like it could topple at any moment. Pages hang out of some books, and the spines are a muted rainbow of color.
I’ve had ample opportunity to explore his entire body, especially his torso, because he rarely wears a shirt. I tease him about it relentlessly, but Hunter just rolls with it, claiming his wolf’s blood demands to display his physique twenty-four/seven.
I roll my eyes at his youthful nature.
His curly, chaotic beard tickles my neck as he leans close. “So, what’s this surprise, then?”
“A little impatient, aren’t we, Scruffy?” I say, letting a little irritation into my voice intentionally.
I enjoy his reaction to conflict and commands, and it’s as easy as flipping a switch to arouse him. He doesn’t respond but squeezes me tighter, almost to the point of pain.
Laughing darkly, I reach a tattooed hand behind me to grab a fist full of his hair. He hisses and shoves me away, but I keep his hair in my grasp, knowing the pain will radiate all over his scalp.
Not releasing him, I turn and glare down at him.
“I would watch what you do if you don’t want to meet the end of my belt.”
A bright flush covers his neck and creeps up to his cheekbones, anger and lust battling in his peat moss-colored orbs.
I release his hair and wrap my arms around him before vancating us to The Snuggle Pit.
He blinks a few times rapidly before stepping away from me. Being vancated can be disarming if you aren’t used to it and I did give him no warning I was going to do it.
“Why the fuck would ye bring me here?” He questions me, his outrage evident.
“I thought it would be a fun space for us to pleasure each other. You already love coming here and you talk about it frequently.”
“Aye, and? This feels like a betrayal to Mistress Mariax. This is her space, not yers.”
“So it is,” I say, attempting to keep the jealousy and bitterness out of my tone.
“I willnae play with ye here,” Hunter says gruffly, walking to the opposite side of the room and crossing his arms. “I’ve told ye enough times that ye should have it branded on yer brain by now. I already have a dom and I willnae break our contract.”
I glide over to him with soundless steps. Cupping his bearded face, I lean down and lightly kiss his soft, full lips.
