The Parlour (VDB #1) (22 page)

“Alexander, please. You know as well as I do that in this current situation you will pull rank at every given opportunity you get. You just did with my pet, who is only a small issue. What will you do when it is a higher purpose than simple toys?”
Not that she was, inexplicably
.

“That’s different. There’s a reason–”

“The reason is not relevant. It simply serves a point. You will become more arrogant, more controlling, and I will bend as easily as the reeds do amidst the wind once we are ready. But that time is not yet. You ask me to protect her. It is your only concern. If you do not let me go then I cannot achieve this. I will fall into your hands and allow you any deviance you require of me. I will allow you the choice of path without care for my own safety or sanity as long as you need me. However, if you want her fragility to be a part of this then I insist you take this collar from me.”

Minutes passed as he watched Alexander working the scenarios over in his brain, calculating the risks, the concerns, the possibility that there was another way. The man was no fool. There was no other way.

“You will leave me if I do that,” he eventually replied, quietly, and with more humility than he’d ever heard before. He sighed at the comment and smiled at Alexander’s version of a compliment. Tortured and abused, a child’s response to his control being taken away. If he was truly ready, the man would be confident that no one would ever leave him. Why would they?

“And go where? You are all I want, but you are not there yet. You are still confused. That statement proves it yet more,” he said, trying to find a way to ensure this all made sense to the man. “Don’t be a fool. You know I speak the truth. After all we have been through, do you not trust me?”

“Pascal, I am trusting you with her life, and that is why this has to remain the same,” he said, picking up the decanter again.

“Because you believe I am scared of you? That you might kill me if I dishonour you? You negate the fact that I do this for her, not you. She is now as precious to me as you are. It is my respect for your wishes that prompts me to behave, but my love for her that keeps her safe, Alexander. Do you not think that I, as much as you, would welcome the chance to watch her bleed for us? But she is neither ready, nor able to comprehend such depraved displays of honesty.”

The sneer of discomfort at the thought of a competitor shot angrily across darkening blue eyes. He needn’t have been concerned. Elizabeth adored him and would never leave him unless provoked. Unfortunately, that was the whole point of this. If Alexander hurt her, without seeing her, she most definitely would.

“You love her?” The beautiful man asked, a frown of care suddenly marring his brow.

“How could one not love her?”

“You’re answering questions with questions again.”

“It annoys you. I like the repercussions of defiance.”

Alexander let out a bark of laughter and tipped his head back into the chair, pushing his sleeves up and drawing in a long breath. “I’m tired, Pascal. I’m tired of trying to work out where I fit in, who I am, and why I am. I’m tired of running from my past and manipulating my future. I’m tired of trying to cover all the angles and counter all threats. I just want my chance at peace,” he said wearily, taking another sip of his drink and eventually bringing his calmer eyes back down again.

“You sound like a submissive. Perhaps you should try that again.” The man rolled his eyes in hilarity. However, his words only proved further that he was not ready. “Would you rather we fight our way along this journey, or simply accept the inevitable for now? You can have your peace, I will help you find it, but I cannot do it from beneath you. You know it to be true. Stop punishing yourself for not being ready. Our time as one will come.”

The man snarled at the logic fighting its way to the surface. Like it or not, he couldn’t deny the reasoning any longer.

“You lose when we fight. It would be easier,” the man eventually replied, sullenly.

“I do not lose. I have never lost anything in my life.”

“I beat you at chess all the time.”

“Well, yes, that is unfortunately true. First rate sadist you may not yet be, but master tactician you most certainly are.”

“Are you sullying my abilities?”

“No, you’re stamina,” he replied, suddenly deadly serious in the point he was trying to make. “It exhausts you to give in to your needs. You find yourself lurking in darkened corners, hoping to cleanse yourself of sins you do not need to cleanse yourself of. Do you still chant the numbers inked on your back to yourself, hmm? Still revel in their hold over you?” The man’s eyes looked straight to the floor, anger and resentment at the truth burying its way under his skin once more, weakening his already tired frame. “See, you still believe things are of your own making. Your father and your bruises were not your fault. Yet you refuse to relinquish their power over your state of mind. Behind the pain, you are still a sadist, but you must find peace within that comfort. You must learn to dismiss its effect over your behaviour. Your ferocity should be employed to enjoy your torment, not to amass it further.”

“I could have killed her,” he growled out, barely containing the frustration that was clearly crawling its way across his skin at the interrogation.

“Yes, you could. And you will continue to do so unless you release me.” He snarled again at the words but looked back at him with a small sigh. “And I want my pet back.”

“You have plenty of pets. Entertain yourself with something else. She’s busy.”

“She is… special. I want her back. I had not even fucked her before you stole her from me.”

Which was quite unacceptable.

“Special?” Alexander replied, his eyes now glowing with intrigue as his smile broadened slightly.

“Stimulating. And put your smile away, it is not helping me remain in control of this discussion.” Another bark of laughter filled the air, instantly churning his recently awoken heart as he heard her giggle alongside it. Not his Rose’s, Lilah’s.

“Do you mean highly intelligent, beautiful and able to tell you off for some inexplicable reason?”

“Yes, all that. However, I meant that I find myself kissing her.”

“Oh.” From the double brow raise, he assumed the man was as surprised as he about this effect the woman seemed to have on his own self-control.

“Quite. It is a revelation I was beginning to enjoy somewhat. Where is she?”

“Working.”

“For whom?”

“Me.”

“Hmm. Are you going to relinquish your hold over me?”

“No,” the infuriating bastard snapped, downing the rest of his drink and throwing the empty glass on the floor beside his feet.

He replied with nothing other than a stare of contempt. He would not have that conversation again. Once was quite enough for such an intelligent being to comprehend. Regardless of his agitated state, the man needed to understand he wouldn’t be moved on this. It was essential for everyone’s wellbeing. Eventually, he sighed in frustration. “Fine. If I must.”

“There is a ceremony that we should–”

“Don’t push the ceremonial bullshit, Pascal. I’m not quite back to decent standards of pleasantries and will happily squeeze the life from your throat if you utter another word about obligations and fucking responsibilities.” The man snarled, levering his exquisite frame from the chair, picking up the Cognac and glowering at his own irritation. “My need to do as my body requires without thought to the consequences is becoming ever more taxed by irritation, most of which you have just caused.”

Better. With that would come clarity, and therefore, eventually, comfort.

“Dear boy, I would never push anything on you, least of all decency. It would suit you less than it does I,” he replied, tittering at the thought and watching the tension increase ten-fold.

“Is that fucking title coming with this arrangement?”

“It annoys you, I like the–”

“Yes, yes, the repercussions of it, I know,” he said, heading for the door with a wave of his hand.

“Good. Do tell my rose that I can still smell her cunt.”

He didn’t get an answer, just the slam of the door, which very nearly fell from its hinges with the fury ricocheting along the frame. Accept it, he may have done, but happy about it, he most certainly was not. He watched the door calm itself for a few moments and pondered the best route forward. Training sessions on another woman? Man? Himself? Perhaps he should make the man beat wood until he could actually see the bark shredding beneath his whip. But Alexander had no love for the wood, and would therefore surely carry on until it was nothing but splinters and chippings. Not unlike the canvas of his back had become.

He moved in his seat to inch the final few lesions back and forth across the upholstery. Pain surged across his spine and reminded him of that night. Nothing in his life had felt as harmonious as that moment. Only his care for his rose had tainted his masochism – a care he neither wanted to forget nor deal with. He would have let Alexander go on for hours, done anything he needed to in order to help him, but he also did it for his own needs, his own desperation for the heaven sent ray of agony that only he provided. Had she not gotten in the way with her ideals of moralistic behaviour, he may have died. And of all the ways to die, he relished that thought the most. To die bleeding out the comfort of Alexander would be good enough reason to endure the path to hell. She knew that in her own way, but she would never truly understand it from the depths of her being. She had not had a life that warranted the darkness they lived in. She had not survived the torment in which they both longed to dwell, and she never would. Alexander would make sure of that fact with every beat of his heart.

Where was Lilah James hiding?

Why she had suddenly erupted in his mind yet again was quite concerning. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t find the energy to quash the desire to kiss her again. Luscious lips and stinging tongues of intelligence. What did Alexander want her for? He’d said she was working. What was she doing? She was a legal person before this. Why would she be doing something that included legalities for him? He had an army of professionals more qualified than her for that type of employment.

He narrowed his eyes at the doorframe again and placed his drink on the table quietly. He needed to cause some chaos or he was likely to begin rotting in his sense of responsibility. Dull indeed. And all these normal conversations he was having regarding love and morals were quite disturbing.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, signalling an email, so he dragged out yet another responsibility and swiped the information.

-
         
Uncle, I am in trouble. I need your help. Can you call me? I’m in Berlin.

He rolled his eyes at the little reprobate and smirked to himself at the boy’s ability to evolve into a carbon copy of himself, something he had been trying to avoid for his sister’s sake with little success. At least he wasn’t switchy. Gay he could cope with; gay and confused would have been a minefield to traverse. If anyone in his own family understood this world, it was Thomas, and he had been understanding it since he was fifteen without any knowledge of his uncle’s real involvement in it. He had worked hard to keep it that way, but the boy was getting closer and more intelligent with his digging. He constantly roamed the clubs and venues across Europe, searching for the answers amidst dirty corners and darkened alleys, all in vain until someone embraced his needs and turned him in the right direction. That wouldn’t be happening as he had spent an awful lot of time having him barred from clubs, and threatening people with their lives if they breathed a word about who Pascal Van der Braack actually was. As far as Thomas was aware, he simply frequented clubs as a patron. A highly esteemed one, but a patron nonetheless. Perhaps it was simply time to enlighten the boy and bring him inside the fold. He would need a successor at some point. Maybe Thomas was it.

Family.

The thought instantly bought on visions of Evelyn Peters and the missing money. Where was she hiding? And why? He shook his head at the issue and decided to let Alexander deal with it himself. It made little difference to the man’s business but it would be grating on the nerves of such a devious brain. To be outmanoeuvred by his own sister had to be unnerving. He chuckled at the ability of the woman. Well done her. She was quite fuckable in her astounding acumen. He should do that at some point in the near future, should Alexander ever find out where she was anyway. It would be like fucking Alexander himself with her cold blue eyes and her divine mouth.

He shook his head again and pushed his meandering musings to the back of his mind. He had other issues to deal with. Namely, those damn slaves that Lucinda had holed up in her building. He checked his watch and decided it was time for an impromptu inspection of the goods. Six were in need of appraising. The clients they were bound for would not be amused by untrained or weak submissives.

Pulling his favourite blue velvet jacket from the chair, he slipped into it and headed back down towards the door, calling for the car at the same time.

He passed several interesting scenes on the way through and hovered by the sweat room, watching one of the new Doms trying his hand at anal stretching. He halted the need to go and offer the boy some advice given the screams of pain that were emanating from the room. The couple had been together a while. They would learn their boundaries at some point, but he did briefly nod in their direction as he passed Emanuelle. She nodded in response and stopped by the window to carry on with his watch.