Chapter 2
Katana
Although the night had started out badly, I found myself looking into the most gorgeous set of deep green eyes I’d ever seen. The mask he wore did little to hide the fact that the tall, muscular man was handsome. “Hey,” he said to me as he raised his glass.
I needed a drink desperately. A thing he must’ve noticed as my eyes moved from his gaze to his almost full glass. Just then a waiter walked behind him, and he stopped the guy, grabbing me a drink off the full tray.
Handing me a dark drink with a lime wedge hanging on the rim of the clear highball glass, he smiled at me. “Would you care for a drink?”
“I’m dying for one, actually.” I took the drink from him and struggled to be somewhat classy, taking a dainty sip instead of downing it the way I wanted to.
The last week had been hellish. I hadn’t paid attention to my schedule and had set up not two or three deadlines for myself, but ten of them. As a freelance book cover designer, I was self-employed, and that meant I was my own boss, a thing that was new to me. Not experienced in management, things had gotten out of hand. I’d get it down eventually, I knew I would—but the week had taken its toll on me.
One would think going to a BDSM club for a Halloween party would be the last place an overworked woman would want to go. But being able to give my whole self over to someone else was always a relief. So I took the invite sent to me by my friend Blyss. We’d met long ago, when I was just a kid sent to an orphanage after my mother disappeared. Blyss and I were a lot alike. We were both quiet and kept to ourselves. We’d written to one another when I was sent to live with an elderly couple in foster care, and she stayed at the orphanage. We kept in contact just so we both knew there was at least one person in the world who knew we existed.
Blyss had met the man she’d eventually married at this club, and she had encouraged me to check it out by coming to their first annual Halloween Ball. She knew I had little experience in the BDSM world but assured me that didn’t matter. I could just watch things this first time. If someone did ask me to do anything, she told me to let them know about my inexperience.
I’d hoped she and her husband, Troy, would be at the club for the big bash, but he didn’t want to bring her back to the place for some reason. I thought it was odd that he wouldn’t want to come back to a place that had brought them together.
“Do you come here often?” the hunky man asked me, shaking me from my thoughts.
Only then did I realize I hadn’t even said thank you. “Oh, jeez!” I grimaced and felt the plastic of my mask gouge into my cheeks. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hell of a week. First, let me say thanks for grabbing me a drink. I need copious amounts of alcohol to rid my mind of all the clutter that’s been burning through it for over a week. And second, let me answer your question. No, I don’t come here often. This is my first time.”
When his lips pulled up into one of the best smiles I’d ever seen, I couldn’t help but notice his perfect teeth. “First time, huh? Any experience with this type of thing?”
My body tensed. I wasn’t used to talking about where I’d gotten my experience, limited as it was. “Well, I had this boyfriend when I was nineteen. He liked to spank me. And that turned into a little more, a little bondage.” I hesitated to tell him the rest, as our little playtime hadn’t ended well. I didn’t want him to think I was scared by what had happened. But Blyss had urged me to be truthful with any man I might consider doing anything with, so I went on, “In the end, the BDSM thing turned into just plain physical abuse, coupled with mental abuse. It ended when he went to jail for beating the hell out of me and leaving me with a broken arm and jaw.”
“Damn.” His one-word answer had me looking down. I knew he felt sorry for me and probably thought of me as damaged goods. His fingers touched my chin, pulling my face up. I saw the concern in his green eyes. “Are you okay now?”
I nodded. “That was a few years ago. I got over it,” I told him.
And I had, for the most part. The only remnant from that horrible time in my life was a nightmare sneaking up on me every now and then, telling me I still had a little damage leftover from the brute.
“You can call me Mr. S. What should I call you?” He shifted his weight as he looked me over.
“Katana,” I said, as I hadn’t thought of an alternate name for myself. Blyss hadn’t told me about doing that. “Katana Reeves.”
“Nice to meet you, Katana Reeves.” He jerked his head to one side. “I’m not into crowds. You wanna join me in one of the smaller rooms? We can watch a scene together.”
After a nod, he took me by the hand and off we went, leaving the large room behind us. A step behind him, I took the opportunity to chug my drink while he couldn’t see me. I needed to take the edge off, and quickly.
As he pushed open a door, I heard horrible groans and saw a woman all tied up and bent over some kind of a table. Hushed whispers were heard as a handful of people watched what seemed to be a brutal scene.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a bar and pulled at my hand to get Mr. S to let me go. He stopped and turned to look at me, seeing the empty glass in my hand. He smiled at me, and we headed to the bar first. “What would you like, Katana?”
“Bourbon and Coke, please.” I already felt like he was taking care of me, and it felt awesome—exactly what I needed after my hectic week.
“A double shot of Michter’s Celebration and Coke for the lady and some of the same for me, straight on the rocks.” He set his half-full glass on the bar, and I placed my empty one next to his. His dark green eyes moved to my lips. “I like that black lipstick you’ve got on. Shame it’s going to get all messed up later.”
His confident statement took me by surprise, and all I could do was stare at the hot man who seemed to be made of muscles. A shiver ran through me as our drinks were put in front of us. He took mine, placing it in my hand. Then he grabbed his drink in one hand, my hand with the other, and took me to a little table for two at the back of the room.
I gulped as I heard the loud smacking sound of leather meeting flesh and the yell of pain that followed. My eyes closed as I thought about what I was getting myself into.
His arm moved over my shoulder, and he drew me in close. His lips grazed my ear as he said softly, “You’re perfectly safe with me, Katana. No reason to worry at all. Just sit back and relax. Enjoy the show—then perhaps you’ll think about what you and I can come up with together. I promise you won’t feel abused while in my hands.”
The way he spoke, the look in his eyes, the way he touched me—it all made me feel at ease. He was a perfect stranger, yet I felt drawn to him in a way I’d never felt with any other man. Another smacking sound had me looking at the couple on the small stage.
Sagging in the ropes, the woman seemed beaten down. My heart ached as I knew how that felt. In more ways than one. Lyle Strickland wasn’t the first person to beat the hell out of me and leave me wishing for death to take the pain away. But he’d sure as hell be the last.
When the woman’s Dom untied her, he carried her wilted body to a bed and laid her down with gentleness. He got up to leave her, and her arms went out to him as she moaned, “Please, sir.”
“Now you want me?” her Dom asked her. “I thought you wanted that other man.”
“Only you, sir. I’m only meant for you. Please take me. I am yours.”
Since we didn’t get to see most of the show, I figured she must’ve been cheating on her Dom and had gotten caught. My eyes cut to Mr. S’s, finding him none too pleased with the scene. A hard line had his lips clamped shut.
He and I both seemed out of place in the BDSM club. The look on his face was different from the look most of the other men who watched the show had. He looked disgusted, while most of the others looked enticed. I had to admit, that particular scene wasn’t a thing I liked either.
If someone cheated on you, you let their sorry ass go. No need to whip them into loving you. As if that could even happen in real life.
It came as no shock to me when he leaned in close once more. “I’ve got a few toys at my hotel. What do you say we ditch this place and head over there?”
My brain interjected. Um, hello, Katana. You don’t even know this man’s real name or one damn thing about him except he’s into BDSM.
Cocking one brow, I dared to ask, “Do you think you could give me some identification before I take you up on that offer?”
Without missing a beat, he pulled out his wallet and showed me his California driver’s license. “I’m Nixon Slaughter, owner of Champlain Services in Los Angeles.” He went one step further and took a business card out of his wallet, slipping it into my hand before putting his wallet away. “That’s my number. Feel better about being alone with me now, Katana Reeves?”
With a nod, I agreed to what he wanted. “I’m in your hands now, Mr. S.”
“I think for tonight I’d like to be called Master, my little slave girl.” He got up, took my hand, and away we went.