KING (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (7 page)

This time his fists lash out, striking me solidly in the chest. I i
gnore the slight discomfort. Dalton’s punches are the equivalent of a bitch slap from a woman.

“I’m in love with you,” I whisper, catching his fist mid-strike.

“I know,” Dalton sadly says. “I’m in love with you, too. Get your shit together,” he firmly asserts.

“I wil
l,” I weakly promise. “I still want to fuck you while I do,” I admit without shame.

“
Anytime, my body is yours for the taking,” Dalton says, entwining our fingers together.

“I don’t want you fucking anyone else
in the interim,” I demand, even though I know it’s unfair to ask that of him.

“And I don’t want you to be in love with Regina. Wish in one hand, shit in the other…”

“I take it that means you’re gonna do what you want?”

“Pr
etty much,” he guilelessly says, the thick fringe of Dalton’s eyelashes hides his eyes from me.

“I don’t like that… I hate it,” I growl.

“Hmm…” Dalton purrs, ruby-kissed lips splitting into a devastating smile. “That’s the point.”

“I don’t want to eat my medicine,” I laugh, running my fingers through my hair. “Bastard,” I say affectionately.

“Ha! I’m no bastard… now, you my lover, are a pedigreed bastard,” Dalton teases. “Learn your lessons. You know where to find me when you want me.”

“And I want,” I whimper.

“Good,” Dalton purrs, hand clutching my shirt, pulling me to his lips. After a love-filled kiss, he says, “I’m giving you some space to work your shit out with Regina.”

I slump against the wall as he walks away from me- head held high and shoulders back, the love of my life walks away from me.

Yeah, I have plenty of shit to work through. I just don’t know where to start.

“Happy birthday, Daniel, and welcome home,” I grumble while stalking back to my room to ready myself for my birthday celebration.

~Chapter
Five ~

I finally understand Dalton’s objections as I watch everyone from the hiding spot I’ve had since I was a child- the blind spot near the portico doors. Desire, love, ache, and hunger are served up in the dining room for my birthday celebration, and even I’m not immune.

My emotions are stewing in a concoction of confusion. Dalton isn’t here, but Roman is. I want to beat him senseless, but as he longingly stares at my wife, I get it. We all just want a taste, an experience to hold us during the boring or painful days to come. Is Roman in love with my wife? Doubtful, Roman just wants to know what it’s like to touch the forbidden fruit.

And s
o do I…

I watch from afar as the object of my desires covets the object of his. In a sic
kening twist of agony, the one Ezra calls his spouse gazes in awed wonder at the one my spouse also covets- Marcus. It’s a sordid mess of a clusterfuck. None of it is healthy, and I’ve had my fill of it. It’s time to be proactive and instigate change. We all want someone other than the one we hold in the darkness of sleep. Hell, the man I longingly ache to hold refuses to live here with us.

I don’t blame Dalton. Living here is the equivalent of combining a circus, a zoo, and show on
Animal Planet
about predatory animals culling the weak from the herd. My family is mixed with the Zeitler family and anyone who is related by blood or relations. Thank heavens the rest of them have found safe havens. While the Whittenhowers love the Zeitlers in a way that feels vaguely incestual, we loathe each other too.

We await our nightly meal,
the first true meal since we’ve settled in at Whittenhower Estates. The battle lines are drawn down the middle of the room, like factions in a refugee camp. No one dares to sit until Queen does- even me. It’s equally amusing as it is uncomfortable. Bands of our loved ones huddle up- glad to have someone on their side.

Even the kids are fighting tonight, thanks to Queen’s insistence that the girls come home
for our siege on Misery Castle. Whitney, the ultimate Whittenhower, has the biggest hate-on for Ava, the ultimate Zeitler. I pretend that it isn’t over something that is actually incestuous. This isn’t medieval England where it is acceptable to marry your first cousin to keep the wealth in the family- even though I bet Grandfather would be ecstatic over the development. I just shake my head and walk away, refusing to even contemplate that disaster.

I
weave a large arc away from my cowardly bastard of a father, who only has two people on his team tonight. Roman watches my wife, pretending to pay attention to Jamie’s hands as Fate hovers nearby. Another curiosity I refuse to explore. The implications are painful at best. 

My detour puts me
perilously close to another hated figure, the girl I called sister until recently. My shamefaced aunt, Adelaide, is sullenly sitting with Kris because she either refuses everyone else or they loathe her in return. She allegedly tried to bring down the Zeitlers, but she vehemently denies it. There is no allegedly when it comes to the attempted murder of Ade via the hands of Katya. Actually, Ade did die- three times, and the proof is in her disfigurement and disabilities. But we all know someone was pulling her strings.

One of my relatives is on the bench waiting for Niel to reach the age of majority. Kate? As the wife of a political figurehead, she’s in the perfect position to play their sick game. Jamie? Who else fakes death without ramifications? Adelaide? Well, she’s just fucked any way you look at it
, now isn’t she? Take your pick…

One of our
resident pariahs is sitting by his lonesome, gazing at us with a calculating glint in his eyes. He’s the only one whose balls are larger than his brains. Grandfather sits while Queen remains standing. This was his house after all, until eight hours ago.

Grandfather’s
partner in crime, Diane, is wandering the fringes, doing some calculating of her own. From the outside perspective, you’d assume she was measuring you for a coffin. But now I realize that Diane is investigating- cataloging- figuring out who is in the game and who isn’t, just as my grandfather is.

I feel eyes on me from the safety of my hidey-hole- Syn. The antisocial Goth is doing wha
t I am- hiding and watching. Syn smiles at me- a real smile- when she realizes she’s been caught. Syn is gorgeous when she isn’t being all assassin chic. Everyone says that Syn and Fate look identical. I don’t think so. There is something about Syn that is so familiar, and every time I try to figure it out, I lose the thread. I’ve known her since birth. I just can’t figure out why Syn elicits certain emotions within me. I look forward to our prolonged silences while I ink her flesh. I get the feeling she does too, like she’s coming to me, not out of a need for more art, but companionship.

I love every idiot in attendance. I feel a swell of pride and a pang in my heart as I gaze over all I call family. It’s too bad each and every one of them is fucked in the head, even the toddlers. No one will make it out of this clusterfuck unscathed. Impossibility!

The myriad of emotions flavoring the air are choking the breath out of me.

If we have to live under the same roof- my roof- then some changes
are necessary. First on my list is Ezra. No way can I stand to watch him ogle his own partner. It’s painful. If I fix one, I fix the lot of them- kids too!

I’m about to do something stupid, no doubt, but after this shitty birthday, I could care less.
My confrontation with Dalton left me with a raging hard-on that I will do anything to satisfy. My dick didn’t care for my hand action. It wants a warm wet hole, and there’s several it’s craving.

My eyes lock onto my target as I swagger over to where he leans
against the dining room wall. Ezra stands alone in his misery, stressing over the fact that he isn’t the one providing for his family at the moment- that it’s his own mother that put all of us in this precarious position. Money won’t help us now. Three of the wealthiest people in our state, hell, the country, are in my dining room at this very moment, and it doesn’t do a damn bit of good. One foot out of this estate and you’re hounded by reporters from every type of media outlet. If Diane’s word is good, the media isn’t our biggest issue.

“I know what you need,” I arrogantly
whisper in Ezra’s ear. His soft hair flutters against my lips. I smirk as he holds his composure, completely hiding his aroused reaction to my presence. He turns to me with smoldering gunmetal gray eyes, the only dead-giveaway that I affect him. “And I’ll give it to you,” I groan in a voice gone husky from lust.

“Interesting,” he drawls out in his Master Ez voice
, no longer smoky- sultry. There is a chill in his tone- a harshness that is reminiscent of grinding shards of broken glass.

Ezra
thinks none of us are privy to his alter-ego, and he’s mistaken. I’ve always known. Master Ez is trying to hold back Ezra’s true nature- the hell with that heterosexual sociopath. I want the guy I’ve yearned to fuck since before I could get hard- the guy who made me realize I was gay.

“
Is your bastard of a husband giving it up on a regular basis,” I bait him, knowingly, and he winces. “Hmm…” I purr, “Such a shame. Cort must have the fortitude of a saint to resist your magnificent, firm ass.” My eyes dart to the object of our conversation. I tilt my head to the side to get a better angle and he grimaces. A soft chuckle rumbles up my throat when Ezra playfully flexes his buttocks in invitation.

“Whitt,” he hisses, Master Ez glaring out his stormy eyes. “Don’t go there,” he warns.

“I don’t have any idea what it’s like to be married to someone who isn’t your ideal,” I sigh in mock suffering. “Nary a clue on how it feels when your spouse won’t fuck you.”

“I’m not in the mood to play this game wit
h you, Whitt. You won’t win,” Ezra threatens, fists clenching at his sides.

“But then again, I married out of self-preservation and survival. The a
gony you must feel every time Cort rejects you. Oh, Ezra,” I say with false sympathy, “You really shouldn’t have married a man who isn’t gay- they make the worst sort of partner,” I scold.

“Why
is it that no one sees you clearly,” he growls out of frustration, Ezra leaking through his Master Ez façade.

“You tell me,” I taunt, “Master Ez.” I smile to lighten the mood, m
aking sure my dimples indent. Ezra’s eyes track the movement, lashes casting gorgeous half-moons on his cheeks.

“At least I’m married to the people I’m attracted to. You marrie
d a woman for Christ’s sake,” Ezra venomously spits like the thought left a nasty taste in his mouth.

A deep chuckle pours from my lips, gaining the attention of everyone in the dining room. “Says the one married to a woman,” I stress. “You’re one to talk. You’ve fucked my wife more than I have. Let’s be honest. Regina is more man than either one of us. You don’t fuck her, she fucks you.”

Ezra shuffles he feet and I know I’ve won. His hands seek the depths of his pockets, no doubt masking his reaction to our conversation. Ezra’s annoyed, but I know he is reliving every sexual moment he’s ever had with my Queen.

“Regina
doesn’t count,” Ezra sheepishly says. “She’s just a man who happens to have a vagina.” He blushes and looks away. “I’m not gay,” he declares, and I bark a laugh.

“Sure you’re not,” I say sarcastically. “I know you love Kat. Anyone can see it. But she’s not enough for you
, and she knows it, too. It’s not about sex when it comes to her. I understand because that’s how it is for me when it concerns Regina. You’re not enough for Cort, and you know it. It’s too bad since Cort is without a doubt enough for you.” I soften my voice to lessen the blow, but a pained expression flashes across Ezra’s face anyway. It’s a hard truth that he’s come to accept a long time ago.

“You think I don’t know that, Whitt?” Agony and rejection scream from his voice.
Ezra’s eyes turn into bottomless pools of pain. “If… it could work for the three of us if Cort would relent.”

“I know,” I gravely say. “You need a pass.” My brow pops in silent challenge.

“What?” Ezra whisper-shouts, but heads still turn in our direction. Our spouses, parents, and children take an avid interest in our very private conversation.

“Ya wanna use your inside voice,” I tease with a chuckle. “U
nless you want them to know I’m propositioning you right this second.”

“You’re propositioning me?” he asks in disbelief
and uncomfortably shuffles on his feet.

“Ya think,” I sarcastically murmur. “Here’s what I know. You’re miserable. You love your wife
, and you both try to give each other what you can, but it’ll never be enough. Kat’s off playing sadistic reindeer games with your father’s cousin. Your husband is officially AWOL because he refuses to admit he’s bisexual, and Cort’s cock is pointing in one direction- at your father. Cort is losing his fucking mind. You’re all uncomfortably living in my house, and our lusts are rising out of control. You’ll either have to move or we can all give into temptation.”