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“Of course, Your Highness,” I drawl. “Lead the way.”
X
My molars crush against each other as we slip into the Jaguar limousine; any more pressure and they’ll shatter. The driver, a junior agent who can barely grow peach fuzz, closes the door behind us before reappearing again in the driver’s seat.
“Pardon me for saying so, but I’m quite looking forward to this assignment, Agents X and Z. Your missions are legendary, both of you.” His enthusiasm is mixed with his northern English accent. “I mean, X, that time you drove a Rolls-Royce onto the top of a train and then had to jump off? With an Edenvale prince in the car with you, no less!”
I open my mouth to cut him off, but the bloke barely takes a sip of air before rambling on again.
“And Agent Z—you wing walked from one plane to another, entered the aircraft from the storage hold and landed the beast after both the pilot and copilot had been poisoned. And you got them to the hospital in time to save them!”
I raise a brow at this, turning my attention to Lora. I mean—Agent Z.
The woman who has been fucking me—and with me—for years.
“That was you?”
She simply shrugs.
The rook—the Order’s name for agents in training before they earn their crow’s-feather tattoo—opens his mouth to speak again, but I press the button to close the soundproof partition.
“Thank you. That will be all for now,” I say as the tinted glass slides shut, his eager young profile disappearing before he can protest.
The kid doesn’t realize this gig isn’t all about catching bad guys. It’s about learning that the world isn’t black-and-white, but merely shades of gray.
And the scantily dressed woman beside me is the grayest of gray characters.
Z stares out the window as we pull away from the curb, and I stare at her thigh-high black stiletto boots, the smooth-as-silk skin of her legs barely covered by the black netting of her—hell, I don’t know what you call it, but whatever it is, it shows off every dip and swell of her curves. Beneath it, she’s covered by a leather G-string and ruby-red pasties that form an X over each nipple as if she’s marked them just for me. Coincidence—or another one of Lora’s attempts to further toy with me? It doesn’t matter. She looks bloody fantastic, and though I would never admit it to her, it will require little effort for me to play my part tonight. We’re the same age, and if I saw her on the street I wouldn’t imagine she was a day over thirty. Whatever genetics are in her lithe body deserve a prize.
Fuck her for fucking me all those times and knowing it was me.
“You never struck me as the type who played games,” I say with practiced nonchalance. If she thinks I’m going to give her a big dramatic performance, she’s got another think coming. She’s played me with ice-cold precision for years, so I’m dialing the temperature to Antarctic levels.
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t peel her gaze from the window.
“And you said you loved me and disappeared without a trace,” she snaps. “Potato, po-tah-to, Max. You were playing your little spy games years before I was even recruited—years when I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. Don’t try to tangle with me or I’ll tie you in knots.”
“X,” I say, my jaw tight. “I’m Agent X now. You want to know what happened when they ripped me from my life at Frasier? Max Vandenberg died a thousand deaths until nothing of him remained. All that’s fucking left is X.”
She finally turns her head, her dark eyes meeting mine. “If you ever really loved me,” she says coolly, “you’d have known it was me even with the blindfold. But you didn’t. You never had a clue.”
As if choreographed to her words, the car rolls to a stop.
The driver knocks on the partition. I tap out Morse code in response, permitting him to open the partition.
“King... Princess...we have reached our destination. Welcome to the Lion’s Den.”
I straighten my spiked jacket over my T-shirt and open the door to the dark alley that hides the club’s entrance. I unclip the leash from my belt and turn to Z, tossing it onto the seat next to her.
“Should be as easy as jumping from one plane to another,” I taunt. “Or as lying to a lover.”
A muscle ticks in her jaw as she lets loose a soft growl.
“Careful, love,” I tell her. “You’re the sub, remember? You need to sell it.”
She sneers at me as her knees fall open and she clips the leash to a ring on the crotch of her G-string.
I grab the free end and give her a slight tug, imagining the cool metal sliding against her folds.
My cock goes rigid, traitor that it is. But I take satisfaction in Z’s slight squirm against the leather seat.
“When I say come, you come,” I tell her, then lead her out of the car. It takes every ounce of effort not to allow my mind to wander to the dalliances we’ve shared over the years. The vise grip of her pussy on my cock. Goddamn it, she’d open so wide for me. She gave me everything except for the truth.
For the seconds we stand next to each other, she leans close and whispers in my ear. “If we make it out of here alive, I’m going to kill you.”
I chuckle, though I know it’s only partly a joke. Agent Z’s reputation with the blade is legendary. As is her talent for escape. No one can capture her.
“I look forward to it, Princess.”
And then I stride farther into the alley, the slack on the leash the determiner of how many paces she’ll walk behind me.
Yes, we’re playing our assigned roles, but it also allows me to case our surroundings and for her to have my back should I miss anything.
Not that I ever do.
I count the doors, none of them lit, and stop at the fifth one—an indistinct black door recessed in the nondescript redbrick rear wall of the building.
A camera above the door clicks and whirs as we approach. Then the door falls open, revealing a dimly lit stairwell.
I wrap the leash around my hand and give it a soft pull.
Z sucks in a sharp breath and my nostrils flare. Fuck. I capture the scent of her erotic aroma.
“Tell me what’s on the other side of that ring,” I say, because it’s either that or throw her up against the wall and take her bareback, thrust my cock in her to the root, make her milk every last drop of come out of me and see if that gets my head on straight.
She grits her teeth. “Make me.”
CHAPTER TWO (#u80f63736-7de3-52f2-b998-5f3b7978a93b)
Z
I HATE HOW my toes are cramped inside these ridiculous pointy boots. I hate the way the glue from my pasties itches my sensitive areolas. I hate the way London’s autumn night chill pebbles my exposed skin with gooseflesh. But most of all, I hate how wet I am. I swear if I look I’ll see my arousal shimmering on my thighs in a telltale gleam.
My body is compact and muscular, an instrument of death, honed to fatal precision, and yet with Max—no, X—looming over me, smelling vaguely of pine, oiled leather and mountain rain, my defenses crack. A part of me, a part that feels quite achy at present, wants to rub against his powerful form like a feral cat in heat, purring that he can use me any way that he sees fit. To acknowledge him as my master. My G-string is soaked and my mouth waters, remembering the velvet feel of his cock on my tongue.
But I got to where I am in the Order by being competitive, and I am compelled to answer the challenge in his eyes.
“As you wish,” he growls and tugs me forward.
The wet leather of my G-string goes tight against my pussy, the cold metal of the leash ring skimming my clit. But I don’t allow so much as a whimper to escape my lips. Keeping my face carefully bored, I clip down the steps behind him, concentrating on my balance and cursing the day that I ever begged my parents to send me to Frasier Academy. My life would have been easier if I never knew this man existed, because ever since I’ve been trapped in his orbit, it’s as if he exerts his own gravitational pull.
No matter how many years I’ve known him, I can’t get used to his presence. He’s as addictive as heroin. The sexual chemistry between us could blow up Western Europe.
He glances behind and scowls. “Eyes down, Princess.”
“Excuse me?” I bristle.
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “So help me, my sub will be well trained. Turn your gaze to the ground. You don’t make eye contact with anyone unless I order you to, is that understood?”
“Fine,” I spit. He’s right. I have to be professional. Even if my job is requiring me to play a role that I hate.
He tugs my leash. “Yes, sir.”
My breath hitches as my pussy responds to the pressure, and he snorts.
“Yes, sir,” I mumble, lowering my gaze, my cheeks pink not from embarrassment but barely controlled fury. And still I want to lick every contour of the muscles beneath his Dom outfit.
“I might enjoy this gig after all,” he says, almost to himself.
I glare at the floor, unsure whom I hate more. Him? Or me and my damn weakness.
And just like that we are at the bottom of the stairs. X pushes apart thick black velvet curtains, and we enter the Lion’s Den.
Throbbing Euro trance music mingles with the sound of a woman’s breathless moans. I dare a quick glance to my left to see a woman trussed up in what appears to be clothesline as a muscular man in head-to-toe latex pumps her slit with a fat crimson dildo while tugging her nipple clamps. A crowd gathers around them, clearly enjoying the spectacle from the way they stroke their exposed erections or finger their shaved pussies. At their feet, slaves kneel, heads down, men and women, all submissives waiting on the pleasure of their masters.
On the other wall, a young man is chained to a giant metal X while a dominatrix in a purple corset and crotchless panties paddles his exposed ass with an ebony cane.
Sprawled across a dining table in the center of the room, a nubile blonde stretches out, her naked body covered in small pastries. Dominants lounge in chairs around her, occasionally plucking a delight from her body as if she was nothing but a dessert plate.
Shocked, I return my gaze to the ground, grateful for a moment not to be the one in control. My thighs tremble as heat licks my core. It’s like entering a sexual circus and erotic fun house.
It’s not that I’m a prude. After all, for the last three years, I’ve been X’s secret lover, allowing him to penetrate me in anonymous cars and hotel rooms all over the continent. But here I am out of my element. Cries of agony and ecstasy hit me on all sides. It’s as if I’m a child, Alice of Through the Looking-Glass, and entering a wonderland of sexhibition.
“Hello, hello,” I hear a woman purr in a throaty voice, addressing X. “Your little one is delicious.”
“She is, isn’t she?” X answers smugly, as if I’m a toy he’s proud of.
And for the moment, I suppose that’s exactly what I am.
“There’s going to be a black-sheet party starting in the red room soon, very exclusive, invitation only.”
I don’t flinch. I don’t give a sign that I recognize this woman. That she might view me as her friend.
Her name is Caro, and I’m about to stab her in the back—not literally, of course, unless she happens to get in my way. I have to be ruthless to succeed in this mission.
“Oh?” From the sound of X’s voice, the frost and ice made flesh, he feels the same way.
It’s not as if I’m unprepared for the mission. I did my research on fetish clubs. But even still...the butterflies darting around the pit of my stomach seem to have developed quite a case of stage fright.
“I’d love to play with your slave, if you’re into sharing.”
I jerk. No! That wasn’t part of my plan.
Caro is taking advantage. I’ve been cultivating her friendship for years, a target who has been a henchwoman to the most wanted man in Europe. But she’s a pain in the ass, and any traces of guilt I feel about my coming betrayal vanishes in an instant.
“I’m not,” X snaps. “But I’ll accept the invite.”
Caro offers a sultry giggle. “This is your first time here, is it not? I make it my business to know all the clients.”
“You own this place?” X asks nonchalantly; as if he could care less.
“Me?” Her giggle turns to an outright laugh. “Not at all. Daddy does.”
Daddy. My lips almost twist in a sneer.
“I’m not a big fan of small talk,” X announces abruptly. “Go ahead and lead the way.”
“Okay, but if you aren’t taking part in the fun, you need to stand on the side and remain quiet.”
“Understood.” X tugs my leash, and with a delicious shudder through my pussy, we’re off again.
Daddy is Dante Price. The lord of this hell. And he is here, watching somewhere close by, and Caro is his head henchwoman.
A few twists and turns down a narrow hallway and the music fades into the background, even as the moans increase. My boots are washed in a rich red light. We must have arrived.
Without raising my chin, I dare to lift my gaze.
Busted. X is staring right at me. But that’s not what causes me to gasp.
It’s the fact that behind him, undulating over a twenty-foot mattress covered in black silk sheets, a full-on orgy is underway.
X
My jaw tightens as I tug Z’s leash. I can feel her hesitation. Despite her outfit and willingness to play slave to my dom, she isn’t prepared for this.
“I meant what I said,” I whisper in her ear. “I don’t share.”
This time when I yank the cord, she follows more freely. She trusts my word, and she has no reason not to. I’ve never lied to her—aside from when I disappeared over two decades ago.
A chorus of moans erupts from all ends of the giant silk-covered mattress. A woman propped on her hands and knees gives oral pleasure to a man while receiving the same from a woman who lies beneath her. What seem like disembodied hands reach for Z. Before I can step between her and one of her admirers, someone succeeds in grabbing a handful of her net chemise.
She opens her mouth, likely to scream, so I don’t waste a second. I cover her lips with my palm and wrap my other arm around her torso, wrenching her free.
“She’s mine,” I say coolly, dragging Z to a corner alcove, the last remaining free one in the room.
I know that Z can hold her own against anyone in this room, but I also know that she is out of her element here, whereas I’ve frequented clubs such as this across the globe. Never, though, with a partner and certainly not one who in my younger years took both my innocence and my heart.
Despite my feelings about Z’s betrayal, if anyone else in this room lays a hand on her, I’ll cut the appendage off before the assailant has time to blink.
