Chapter
One
Around him the sounds of the
club soothed Harkahome “Hark” Akula's overstrung nerves.
Standing off to one side of the huge, opulent great room, he leaned against one
of the walls as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him. On the raised
dais, one of the members was putting on a demonstration with his submissive. A
rare sense of homecoming settled over him. It had been too long since he'd set
foot inside of Olivia's. As one of the premier clubs in Chicago, a person had
to have either money, clout, or know the owner of the club to even gain
temporary access to the club. And even that didn’t
guarantee acceptance to the exclusive BDSM club. You fucked up and you were
gone. It was that simple. Mistress Olivia ran the club with an iron fist that
occasionally was backed up by her submissives. Even trained as he was, he
didn’t want to take on Jude Larson or Micah Beaumont, if the rumors about what
happened when they were down in Louisiana last year were true.
Tonight had been the first time he’d visited the club in a long
time. Once he’d found George Rotthaus and his wife Teresina, he’d no longer
needed the club. He’d settled down comfortably in their home in a county north
of the city and threw himself into helping raise their son, Alex. He’d thought
he’d found a small slice of heaven on Earth with the man meant to be his Master
and the sub they shared. So when they were taken from him, it had nearly killed
him. One would think a man accustomed to death, wouldn’t have been stunned and grief-stricken
when he’d lost his family. The deaths of George, Teresina, and little Alex had
totally been unexpected. And all my
fault.
After he’d gone hunting and made the fools who killed his family
pay, he'd retreated to the home they created together. And now it's gone as well. The fire set by Cyrille Karas, during his stint protecting Zhenya Addi-soon-to-be-Poulanos and
her beautiful little daughter Sophie, had destroyed everything but his
memories. Even so, it had been worth it to still be able to hold the drooling
little girl in his arms, to see Zhenya find happiness with Teresina’s brother,
Gabriel. He expected any day now to get a call about their wedding, even if
Zhenya was taking it slow. Once Gabriel got the ring on her finger, it would
only be a matter of time before he marched his submissive in front of the
minister. The other man wouldn’t take the chance that Zhenya would be taken
away from him like his former submissive, Sara, had been.
“Please, Master!”
The desperate plea echoed through the main room drew Hark out of
his thoughts. From his position he could see the blond man manacled to the
pillory. His strong back, bare and glistening, had several red stripes already
as the man twisted sensually against his bonds. Instead of trying to get away,
the man was trying to get closer to the kiss of the whip. In his pants, his
cock stirred at the sight. He couldn’t decide if it was because he wanted to be the one administering
the lashing the man was begging for, or the fact it'd been over two years since
he'd felt the lash against his own skin. His reprieve from his lusts was over.
His body once again craved the illusive pleasure he experienced in the past. He
hadn’t felt anything remotely resembling desire since the Rotthaus’s deaths.
Shifting a bit, he stepped further back into the shadows,
blending into them. His leather pants wouldn't hide his semi-erect cock, and
the last thing he wanted was for one of the un-collared subs to see it and
offer themselves to him, as several had when he'd first come into the club.
He’d promised Zhenya he’d try, but found himself unable to accept what they
offered. Instead he found himself taking baby steps to see if he was ready to
move on. The woman who’d offered herself had been tempting, but it took more
than lust to stir him into engaging in a scene. He needed more than physical
desire - he needed the connection he'd found with only two men and one woman in
his entire lifetime. Now with two of them dead, and the third unable to handle
his needs he found himself once again looking for the trust, the acceptance, he
constantly struggled to live without.
Watching as the man’s Dom, dressed in all black drew his arm
back, Hark’s sixth sense tingled. The man with his shoulder length hair
gathered into a tight braid, reminded him of a ghost from his past. The hair
rose on the back of his neck. The fluid motions of the man's body seemed almost
dream-like as he effortless flicked the single-tail, dancing it along the skin
of his submissive. His weary soul recognized the man without even seeing his
face. It can't be. Not now after all I've
gone through. Mother Earth wouldn't be that cruel.
The need to confirm or deny the possibility of it being his
former Master drove him to act. He kept to the shadows and skirted the edge of
the gathering crowd, not that anyone was paying attention to the nearly six and
half feet of Native American, when such a scene was going on. All eyes were
focused on the man being whipped and if it was who he thought it was, his
former Master had only grown in his prowess with the single-tail since they
parted ways. Finally in a position to get a glimpse of the man without being
seen, he sucked in a deep breath as both pain and euphoria hit him
simultaneously.
It was him. Diachi Rai.
The man who un-collared him over ten years ago.
His cock, which had been semi-hard just watching the whipping,
turned to stone in his pants. His body swayed forward, the familiar draw of his
first master potent as it had been the first time he'd spotted the slim Asian
man across a smoky bar outside of Tucson.
“Hark?” The soft inquiry did little to penetrate the pull, until
a slender hand touched his arm, shattering the spell.
Glancing down at the slender fingers resting on his forearm, he
drew a ragged breath. He vibrated with the need to do something, anything that
would get him closer to Diachi, but at the same time, he needed to run, to get
away before he humiliated himself by begging the man to take him back. As if
sensing his torn emotions, the woman attached to the hand, Olivia, wrapped her
arm through his to guide him back the way he'd come.
“Shhh, I know,” she soothed as she slowly but irrevocably pulled
him away from the scene. “One foot in front of the other. One breath at a
time.”
Allowing a petite, five-foot-two Domme and owner of the club
guide him should've gone against everything dominant inside of him, but she was
also a friend. He focused on her words, taking one step, one breath at time,
until she had him in her office. As the door closed behind them, he gave a
relieved sigh. She’d done it. She’d gotten him out of the great room before
he’d done something stupid. She was a good friend. Not that he needed this as
proof to that. She'd been around right after he'd lost his family, there to
comfort and console him, when others hadn't been able to penetrate the shell
he'd built around himself.
“Sit, Hark. Let’s talk.” She motioned to the chair in front of
the black and silver, modern inspired desk. Easing his large frame into the
chair, he watched as she plopped down in the chair next to it, instead of
behind the desk.
“Talk?” He gripped his leather-covered knees. “I thought I was
ready for this, but now I’m not so sure. I know you said it was time for me to
quit hiding. But I’m not ready to deal with subs throwing themselves at my
feet.”
Swinging her legs over the arm of the chair, she pivoted so she
could look at him. “That’s the reason why I asked you to come tonight. Why I
had Zhenya push you into coming tonight. I’m tired of seeing you hide. You’re a
wonderful submissive and even a better Dom than some I’ve met. They’re gone,
but you’re still here.”
“I know they are gone. I could’ve told you that, and saved you
the trouble of having me underfoot tonight, merely taking up space.”
“True, and you have told me repeatedly that you understand. I
was just hoping being here, exposed to people with the same wants and need as
yourself might rekindle the fire inside you. I’ve been watching you all
evening, hoping to see that spark.”
“And did you?” Dread filled his stomach. He knew the answer.
He’d been lifeless, just going through the motions, until he spied Diachi. Then
he’d moved in like a hawk, stealthily circling his prey.
“It was more than a spark. It was a raging inferno, just waiting
to be tapped. If he’d so much as crooked his finger you’d have been at his
side. It confirmed what I thought.”
He turned his head so fast, his braid swung over his shoulder as
what she was saying sunk in. “You wanted to see if I would react to his
presence.”
“Guilty as charged.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve known
both you and Diachi a long time. Almost as long as I’ve known Bryan Sterling. A
more giving soul I’ve never met. Which is why I needed to see how you would react
to seeing Diachi again.”
“Well, it’s obvious I still feel a pull towards him.” He laughed
sardonically. “That’s one thing that has never changed. Diachi merely has to
breathe in the same room as me, and I’m ready to fall to my knees for him.
Which is a good reason for you getting me out of there. The last thing I needed
to do was embarrass him by causing a scene.”
“Well I’m sure you’ll get used to his effect on you, by the time
your condo is ready.”
He stiffened. “What do you mean when my condo is ready? I’m
already living there and paying you rent.”
“As your landlord, I’ve made arrangements for you to stay with
Master Rai and Bryan, while I have the inside of your condo remodeled.”
Anger pulsed through him. “You what?”
She met his gaze, not flinching. “You’ve been complaining about
how small the shower is, plus how the interior needs some serious renovations.
The contractor assured me they could start Monday. That will give you the
weekend to get what stuff you need…”
He surged to his feet. “I realize that you own the condo. But
the idea was for me to do them, not for you to hire some outsider to come in,
kick me out of my home just so you can play matchmaker by having me stay with
the man who un-collared me.”
“Sit down, Harkahome.” She uttered the words softly, but the
steel behind them had him sinking back into the chair. “You will listen to me.
I will not force you to go to Master Rai’s any more than I would force Jude or
Micah to leave my side. The choice is yours ultimately.” She swung her legs
down and stood, facing him. “But ask yourself this. If you had a chance to
recapture what you had with him. To build something stronger -would you take
it? Or would you let the past ruin what could be a wonderful future?”
A growl rumbled free of his chest. Fury washed over him. “He has
a submissive now. I will not ruin another’s relationship for my own happiness.
It would throw off the balance of my life. You may not think much of my native
ways, but balance is something I take very seriously.”
Approaching him, she placed a hand on his chest. “I respect your
ways, but didn’t you once tell me you needed harmony along with balance to have
a full life?”
Eying her warily, he nodded. “Yes, it is the Navajo way. Balance
and harmony with the people and environment surrounding us is the path to true
living.”
She gave him a tumultuous smile. “And forgive me for saying
this, but I think Danchi and Bryan hold the key to you finding the harmony that
has been missing since George and Teresina’s deaths.”
He covered her hand, understanding in her own way she was trying
to help him. “I…”
She pressed her free hand to his lips, silencing him. “Don’t
answer yet. Take the weekend to think about it. If you decide not to go to Diachi’s,
call me and first thing Monday I’ll call the hotel of your choice. I’ll pay for
the cost of a suite for the duration of the condo renovations.”
* * * *
Slipping out of her office,
Olivia pulled the door behind her, leaving Hark inside it. She’d claimed it was to give him some quiet time to think, but in
all honesty she’d needed to slip away before she pushed too hard and ended up
on the wrong side of her friend. It had been close. She saw it in his eyes when
she’d told him, he’d be staying with Diachi for the duration of the renovations.
When she’d spoken with her brother, Caelan, and his friend Gabriel about this
cockamamie scheme, she hadn’t realized she’d be grabbing a tiger by the tail.
For a second, she’d thought that Hark would storm out of her office and
disappear like a wisp of smoke. Much like the shadow walker he’d once confided
to being during one of his few drunken binges after he’d buried his family.
Reaching into her pocket, she pressed speed dial and waited
impatiently for Caelan to pick up. A few moments later, his slight Irish burr
filled her ear. Striding down the hall, she slipped into her private playroom.
This was a conversation she didn’t want the man in her office overhearing.
“Well, I’ve baited the hook. You and Gabriel better know what
you’re doing. This shit backfires and he’s gonna be in the wind.”
“I know. But since he came out of hiding to help with Zhenya’s
situation, we all realized how thin he’s gotten. He’s not the same Hark who
used to come to the club with George. He’s wasting away.”
“I know, but I don’t know how I ended up being the one to break
it to him.”
“Because you’re a woman. He won’t deck you for interfering and
the fact that you’re in essence his landlord…”
She squeezed the bridge
of her nose, as the familiar three taps on the outside of her door interrupted
them and signaled the arrival of one of her submissives. “Dammit. I have to go,
Caelan. If either Jude or Micah realize what’s going on they will run to Hark
and our plans will be over before they started. I’ll call you later.”
She hung up the phone and bid which ever submissive was out in
the hall to come in. Relief washed over her as Micah entered, looking every
inch the game designer he was.
“There you are, Mistress.” He pulled her into his arms.
She relaxed against him, savoring the comfort their nightly
ritual gave her. This is why I agreed to
Caelan and Gabriel’s scheme. Hark deserves to have this.