Lesson In Honesty (Club Serenity #3)

Chapter Nine

Mack

A n impromptu nap was one hell of a way to start the evening.

How the hell any of them had actually fallen asleep right there on the carpet, he didn’t know. His body was stiff in several places from the unyielding floor—his back in particular warned him not to do that again—but there was a special kind of joy simmering beneath the various aches.

He hadn’t wanted intrude on the moment Liam and Sierra shared. There’d been a sweetness he’d never experienced between them as she laid on her lover’s chest, her expression strained from too much information being thrown at her. But as the seconds passed, her body flush against Liam’s, that strain had lightened, lifted, and drifted away.

A testament to the bond two people were capable of forming.

When Elias stopped his wife from using their husband as a trampoline, Mack had automatically stepped in to help Sierra, only to feel foolish when Liam deterred him—gently, but deterred nonetheless.

He hadn’t known how badly he wanted to be included in that bond, taken seriously as their third, until Sierra held out her hand and invited him in to what was an incredibly private, intimate moment.

No hesitation, no stipulations, no words.

Just an extended hand and a silent plea for him to join them.

For a week, he’d been besotted with her. She beguiled him in ways no other woman possessed, pulled on strings he hadn’t known he’d buried under years of dedication to his work. He’d reached the point where her voice brought his cock to standing with only a whisper, and a whiff of her scent kept him hard for hours.

He'd yet to understand how Liam functioned so well around her.

All it took was one sweet, unchoreographed gesture for his heart to fall.

His friendship with Liam continued to grow, faster than he anticipated. Cultivating and maintaining friendships wasn’t a skill he’d practiced over the years—the only ones he had really were Tristan and his employees, but it wasn’t the same.

Tristan was just Tristan, stuck to him like glue no matter what.

His employees were, at the core, good people, but their relationship was never just friends. There was always that overtone of boss versus subordinates, because it couldn’t be any other way.

“Pensive tonight, Mack.” Liam slid a beer in front of him before staking his claim on the stool to Mack’s right. “Changed your mind about doing a scene tonight?”

“Nothing could possess me.” Lifting the bottle, he clinked it against Liam’s, then sipped. “Just thinking about this afternoon. How easy it is just to be when I’m around you two.”

“We aim for a no conflict zone whenever possible. We’ve got enough drama without making more.” Spinning the stool around slightly, Liam kept one eye on their girl as she came toward them, lugging a weighty gym bag over her shoulder. “Time’s going by fast, Mack. Have we bored you yet?”

Bored wasn’t even on the agenda. Every minute he spent with Sierra was an experience in itself, and when Liam added his presence to the mix, the world felt whole.

It was getting easier to admit there were unfamiliar emotions getting stirred up, Mack thought. Sierra fulfilled several emotional needs, yet Liam was quickly shoring up the gaps still remaining.

Were those emotions sexual?

He couldn’t deny Liam was an attractive man. Fit, rugged, with charm, dominance, and compassion that made his internal compass as alluring as his outer appearance. While it might be fun and educational to explore where that attraction went, Mack didn’t feel an urge to submit—or demand submission.

The love he felt for Sierra was consuming, whereas his feelings for Liam were more like love for a brother. Maybe that would change once they scened together, when clothes and inhibitions were stripped.

“Hardly. It’s been refreshing, getting to know you both before… well, almost before anything sexual.” Last weekend had blown his brain wide open, and his dick cursed him every day for not repeating that blessed event. “Spending time with Sierra is like reading a different book every day.”

“She’s an enigma.” Liam drank slowly, his eyes on his woman. “The more you get to know her, the more fascinating she becomes. People mistake her for being slow or stupid because she’s so shy. Sierra’s smarter than they give her credit for, Mack; she just uses her brain for simpler purposes.”

“She’s not one for having the spotlight on her,” Mack agreed.

“It’s her worst nightmare. It came damn close to her refusing to attend Wyatt’s funeral.” He twirled the bottle around on the cardboard coaster emblazoned with the Serenity logo. “Thought she’d be an embarrassment, take the mourners’ attention away from Wyatt. Partly truth,” he admitted, “but the main reason was she couldn’t handle the condolences.”

He wasn’t a fan of funerals himself, Mack thought. Grief was an emotion that razed a person down to the soul, burning away the old life so a new one could begin without the dead. Cathartic, healing, but when it came together in a room, it swelled and multiplied until it consumed all.

“I want to try something tonight,” Liam continued. “I’ve reserved a spot in the suspension area. How accurate are you with impact toys? Whips, floggers, tawses?”

“Can’t claim to cut the wings off a fly with a bullwhip, but I’m not going to put someone’s eye out either.”

“Hmm. You can be good cop tonight.”

“Roleplay?”

“More of a gentle mindfuck. Our girl’s yearning for gentle—we’re going to give her it, with a sprinkle of spice. Bondage, some sensation play, followed up with double penetration.” Liam scratched idly at his beard. “Are you ready for another taste of her, Mack?”

“Anytime.”

“Addictive, isn’t she?” Smiling, Liam held out his arm as Sierra set the bag down and situated herself against his side. “Hello, beautiful minx. Or have we switched to babygirl while you’ve been gone?”

She angled a glare his way. “I’ve been ten minutes, Sir.”

“Ten minutes too long.” When she huffed, he kissed her neck. “I thought cranky little girls were supposed to have a lighter disposition after a nap. It seems our Little is not in the mood for games, Mack. Whatever shall we do?”

Mack grinned, catching on. For whatever reason, Sierra was obviously in a mood and, as her Doms, it was their solemn duty to sway her attitude in a more positive direction. “A few things come to mind. Most of them are in that bag.”

“Great minds think alike.” Patting Sierra’s hip, Liam took another swallow of beer, leaving the barely touched bottle on the bar. “As luck would have it, we have the perfect reservation. Come along, moody minx. Let’s see if we can turn that frown into an O .”

“Eyebrows can’t form circles, Liam,” she said snippily.

What the hell was crawling up her ass this evening? She’d been fine up until this point, and the only time she’d been away from them was when she collected Liam’s play bag from the locker room. Literally no more than ten minutes, as she so kindly pointed out.

Liam clocked onto the attitude as well, a frown of his own making an appearance. A sliver of temper flashed in his eyes like a streak of lightening illuminating storm clouds, before it settled into resignation. “True. Your mouth can, however, when it’s stretched around my cock.”

Another huff. Was she goading her Dom into losing his patience?

“Mack, can you check the bag for me? There should be some sheepskin lined cuffs in there.” Standing, Liam ushered their girl to present herself. “I don’t know what stick you sat on tonight, Sierra, but pull it out and dispose of it. I’ve planned a fun evening, but if this attitude continues, those plans can change to include torturing whatever’s making you sour and prickly out of you.”

Her gaze dropped, instantly more respectful. “Sorry, Sir.”

Mack found the cuffs and passed them over. As Liam began the process of retuning Sierra’s mood from rebellious to submissive, Mack let his attention wander around the room, seeking potential sources of her distress.

It was early enough in the evening that most guests were either dining next door or still preparing to come out and play. He was learning that there were different cliques—those who preferred to enjoy themselves throughout the day before retiring to their cabins for the evening; the ones who emerged about this time for sustenance before enjoying themselves until early morning; and those who came out late in the evening like kinky vampires, sucking and feeding on each other until the very early hours, then sleeping the day away to start all over again.

Jonah was covering Liam’s night off. He seemed to be settling into his role well, although the nervous glances he kept shooting at his boss told Mack the guy still had a few confidence issues.

An older couple huddled together at the end of the bar, hands clasped as they leaned into each other while they talked. The woman giggled huskily, adoration in her eyes as she listened intently to what her partner was saying.

In one of the booths, a Domme sipped delicately at something pink and frothy while swiping a finger leisurely over an e-reader. Her red thigh-high boots were propped up on an unlikely footstool—the bare, welted back of a male sub whose face reflected the pain, pleasure, and ultimate high of being used in such a fashion.

Mack’s eyes ticked over to the locker room door as it swung open and three subs tumbled out, laughing hysterically. He recognized them all from the Nursery—two women and one male, all late twenties to early thirties—and his gaze narrowed in suspicion.

Had they been in there when Sierra collected the bag?

A glance at her told him everything he needed to know.

Her attention was on them the moment they stepped into the bar; misery washed over her features, her chin quivering before she hung her head. He watched her shift her weight, earning a reprimand from Liam in the form of a quick tap against her calf as he circled her ankle with a cuff.

Pieces were slotting together.

“Pixie, were they hassling you in the locker room?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “N-No.”

“Would you like to amend that answer before or after I spank you?”

Liam’s head lifted. “Problem?”

“Three Littles just came out of the locker room.” Mack focused on them again, studying them with the intensity of a wolf singling out his next meal from the herd. “Have they been giving you shit in the Nursery, Sierra, or just when there’s no one else around?”

She shuddered, shrinking as Liam rose slowly, anger vibrating in every muscle. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it fucking does,” Liam growled, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “They’ve been here, what, five days? What have they been saying, minx?”

Her breath jerked out in stages as though it hurt to breathe. Resolutely, she held her silence. Did she think keeping quiet was going to stop her Doms from dealing with bullies?

“Stay with her, Liam. I’ll go have a chat with—”

“No!” Sierra leaped forward, clutching Liam’s arm in one hand, trying to grab Mack with the other. “Don’t, please, you’ll just make—”

Joint snarls erupted from Mack’s chest and Liam’s, completely in sync. They both knew what she was about to say before their sounds of fury cut her off.

You’ll just make it worse .

“Tell us exactly what they said, Sierra.”

Quailing under the tangible anger, her shoulders slumped, her hands sliding back down to her sides. There were tears in her voice when she whispered, “They said I don’t belong in the Nursery. Things like me should be in the Zoo.”

If she’d set a match to a pool of gasoline, Mack doubted his and Liam’s reactions would’ve been any less volatile. Baring his teeth, he asked, “What else, pixie? What other shit have they been spouting?”

Trembling, she folded in on herself. It wouldn’t surprise him if she curled into a ball and disappeared. The misery in her voice, however, warned him whatever the hateful fuckers goaded her with had damaged something vital.

“That I don’t deserve a Daddy. Don’t deserve one Daddy or two Daddies…” Her breath hitched on a sob. “I should be in a cage with the other monkeys.”

He’d heard rumors that Liam was called the Viking Master at his old club. That name followed him to Serenity and now, Mack saw that it wasn’t just the physical resemblance earning him that title.

The rage in him was akin to that of Odin.

“I’ll kill them,” Liam snarled, spinning around.

Slapping a hand on his chest, Mack felt the violent energy radiating off them both collide. It hissed and sparked, two separate beasts twining together. “Don’t. I’m right there with you, Liam, believe me. Assaulting them is only going to end up with you in jail and Evander firing your ass for good measure.”

Gone was the gray in his eyes, replaced by roiling black emotion. “Like hell are they getting away with this, Mack.”

“They’re not going to get away with anything. Take Sierra to the suspension area, settle her down. Text Elias and ask him to come here.” Mack rolled his head until some of the tension in his neck cracked. “You guys don’t have a jail of your own here, right? Incarceration for misbehaving Doms?”

“No,” Liam ground out, pulling Sierra into him as she covered her face to hide her tears. “We just hoist them out by the collar and kick their ass out into the cold.”

“Let me grab my jacket before you do that,” Mack muttered. He stepped in closer to Sierra, concealing his tumultuous temper long enough to lift her chin with a fingertip and claim her mouth possessively. “Call me presumptuous, pixie, but your Daddies love you.” His heart gave a solid, approving thud. “ Both your Daddies. We’re going to show you just how much when I’m done putting the hyenas back in their pen.”

“Don’t—”

He shut her up with another kiss, tasting her tears and the sorrow she couldn’t hide. “Liam loves you. I love you, pixie. Neither one of us will tolerate this, but one of us needs to start healing your hurts. Liam knows how to do that best.”

“Try not to get blood on the leather,” Liam said darkly as Mack walked away.

Oh, he didn’t intend on laying a hand on any of them, particularly the women. Words were his usual weapons of destruction—years of running a business, commanding several teams in different divisions, were the key to honing his temper, displeasure, and disapproval into a bloodless, ruthless blade.

Ready to hack Sierra’s bullies off at the knees, he strolled over toward the booth they were now occupying, using a few seconds to fiddle with his phone.

He took his time, sizing them up, determining their dynamic.

Not once in the last few days had he seen any of them with a Dominant, male or female. They were obviously close with one another, spending all their time together as a trio. From what he’d casually observed, they bore Little traits, but whether they were truly Little, just dabbling, or using it as an excuse to bully and belittle others, he didn’t know.

Even if Serenity wasn’t on the exclusive side, he’d label them as rich. At a guess, significantly wealthier than his few million dollars in the bank. Unlike him, their monetary worth was likely generational—they wore the same can’t touch me expression Tristan often used when he was being an obnoxious prick, flaunting his cash to get what he wanted.

Money tainted blood.

Assets contaminated the soul.

That was yet another reason he was hesitant to sell his business, even though it would catapult him up the rich list faster than a powder keg on an inch-long fuse.

He liked who he was now, was proud of his achievements.

The thought continued to lurk in his mind that once he had millions—so many fucking millions—at his disposal, he’d become lazy and entitled, a shadow of himself.

He’d come from nothing and he’d die with nothing, same as everyone else.

It was the time and the legacy he left in between that worried him.

As he approached the booth, he met the eyes of one of the women first. Jade green, surprise fading to attraction then lust. She licked lips filled with whatever poison was currently popular, scooping her hand through ultra fine strands of silver blonde hair shot through with vibrant pink.

Diamonds winked in her ears, around her wrist.

The corset she wore left nothing to the imagination, drawing attention on two levels—the fact it showed a considerable amount of porcelain skin, and that it was as pink as the dye in her hair.

Mack wondered how she’d look stuffed in a box with a cellophane front, trapped like the doll she emulated.

BDSM Barbie .

Amusement at the wayward thought made him smile as he stopped, leaning against the back of the booth. He said nothing, waiting for the attention of all three morons to land on him.

The second woman noticed him about thirty seconds after BDSM Barbie, only it wasn’t interest in those hazel eyes. This vixen wasn’t concerned with him at all, just the interruption he was causing to her evening. She wasn’t as skinny as her pink-frosted friend, she didn’t flaunt her diamonds, but the ice in her gaze told him everything he needed to know.

Next level wealth. Complete disregard for anyone who wasn’t her equal.

She might dress in Chanel and Gucci, but inside that pretty shell with the perfect eyebrows and exceptional makeup, she was trash.

As for the man… well, Mack discovered he was struggling not to slam his fist into the surgically crafted cheekbone to wipe the cocky smirk off the fucker’s face. Blacken those murky blue eyes to dim the smug satisfaction glowing in them.

They hadn’t been cruel by accident, not that he’d believed that anyway.

They were cruel because it was a form of entertainment to the rich and bored.

“Is there a problem or are you just perving?” The guy sneered.

“Can you blame him? I bet it’s like kissing an ape’s ass crack when he kisses that freak.” The haughty little bitch eyed him up as though she’d stepped in shit. “Maybe he’s gay. That’s it, right? You’re locked up tight in some quaint closet, in denial or whatever the fuck, and fucking that monstrosity is a twofer—you can get your rocks off imagining it’s a man while using it as a beard.”

Mack clenched his jaw until it thought it was wired shut. His teeth ached from the pressure, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth to keep from spewing vileness back at them.

Changing his mind about wielding words as a weapon, he decided to hang them—as the saying went—with their own rope.

“That’s mean, Portia.” The blonde frowned.

“The truth hurts. Why else would a guy like him be with something that crawled out of the gutter?” Portia lifted a hand as if asking to be corrected. “Either his dick is into beast porn or—”

Pain radiated through Mack’s hand, traveling up his wrist and forearm like a lightning bolt. The crack of bone on wood fired like a gunshot, cutting the toxic Portia off as effectively as stuffing his fist down that slender throat.

The blonde squeaked and jumped. “Portia, maybe you should stop now.”

“Why? The beast fucker here came to us, encroaching on a private conversation. If he doesn’t like what he hears, he can turn around and go back to his pet monkey.” She flicked immaculately manicured nails in a dismissive gesture. “Shoo, beast fucker. I think I hear the baboon screeching for you.”

Fury ignited, a whisper of a spark connecting with two hundred and twenty pounds of testosterone and gunpowder. Even as he struggled to contain it, to control himself, he felt his emotions slip through his fingers.

“Jesus,” she continued, “have you been fucking it so long, you’ve forgotten how to speak? Dustin, explain it in a way the beast fucker understands.”

Tittering, Dustin curled his hands under his armpits and started making monkey noises.

“Dustin, stop. I don’t like this.” When her friend didn’t listen, the blonde grabbed Portia’s arm. “Please, you’re going to get us all in trouble.”

“We’ll stop when that hairy cunt gets its marching orders.” Nose in the air, Portia stared Mack down. A flicker of something resembling alarm trickled into that arrogant gaze, but she obviously couldn’t rein in her tongue. “We paid a fucking fortune to be here, Maryann. We should be able to enjoy ourselves without being exposed to that thing .”

Mack forced his eyes to break away, landing on the blonde. She looked so apologetic, his heart almost managed to feel pity for her through the inferno encasing his chest. “Go.”

She blinked at him. “Me?”

He nodded once. “Now. Find Master Merrick.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Don’t tell her what to do, beast fucker.”

Feeling his lips begin to curl in a snarl, Mack reiterated his order, adding dominance to the same sequence of words. When Maryann paled, shot a terrified look at her friends, and wriggled out of the booth as though it was suddenly full of snakes, his temper finally frayed to the last strand.

“God, she’s such a fucking pussy.” Portia lifted an eyebrow and smiled, sharp enough to cut glass. “Maybe they have a monkey costume in the gift shop. You and your blond friend won’t have to share the beast for once.”

Still acting like an ape, Dustin hooted in amused agreement.

Snap .

The twang of his control giving way was oddly freeing, Mack decided as his hand lashed out and wrapped around Dustin’s nape. For so long, he’d kept himself rigidly locked down, burning himself out with the effort of being the perfect businessman, employer, innovator.

Violence didn’t really solve anything in his world.

Smashing Dustin’s face against the table, listening to the pop of cartilage breaking and watching blood spray across the glossy wood, felt so fucking liberating.

Portia’s mouth dropped open, but the scream didn’t come from it.

Dustin, however, wailed like a baby.

Wrenching the asshole up, Mack prepared to slam him down again. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, take his rage out on a woman, even one as vile as the bitter viper sitting an arm’s length away, but he had no issue whaling the putrid poison out of another man.

“The woman you’ve bullied is ten times the woman you will ever fucking be.” Holy hell, where did that darkness in his voice come from? The words sounded, tasted , black. “She’s gone through hells you will never understand. Money doesn’t make you a queen, Portia. The clothes, the diamonds, the makeup can’t conceal what you are.”

Dustin tried to claw at Mack’s hand; Mack just reintroduced him to the table.

“I’ve been weighing you up. At first, I thought family money. Youngest daughter maybe, the spoiled bitchy brat. But every time you open your filthy mouth, you give me a different vibe.” Mack let his stare bore into hers, hard and cold. “No ring on your hand, Portia, but you forgot to hide the mark. Bet you married an old fucker—what is he, seventy, eighty? Or did you go for the fast pot of gold and head straight for the nineties? A few quick fucks, hoping to give the poor bastard a heart attack?”

She paled slightly under the layers of makeup.

“Yeah, that’s it. He’s not dead yet though—otherwise Maryann wouldn’t be here.” Scrubbing Dustin’s face through his own puddle of blood, Mack yanked him up again. “Vacation time with the boyfriend. Bring along a friend who’s sweet and innocuous for cover in case hubby snaps out of his senility long enough to check his finances and wonder what his wife’s been up to. I’m going to guess there’s a prenup with an infidelity clause.”

Now she blanched.

Grinning, Mack shook Dustin by the neck. Blood splattered from his broken nose and the coward whimpered. “I have friends, Portia. Many friends in a lot of places. It won’t take long for me to find out who you are, where you’re from, which rich bastard you conned into marrying you. Friends who love that monkey you’ve spent all week torturing because she’s different from you.”

Dustin tried to speak, but Mack just tightened his hold.

“People love her for who she is. They don’t care what she looks like, because it doesn’t fucking matter .” His voice rose to a roar. He didn’t care that he was drawing attention. “They see that she’s kind and sweet. Shy and easily hurt by assholes who are so fucking jealous of her, they resort to cruelty and bitchiness.”

“I—”

“Shut the fuck up. Go back to your cabin, take this pathetic piece of limp-dicked shit with you, and pack. Get in your fancy car and get the hell off this property.” He was probably stepping over the boundary here, but he didn’t care. Evander and Elias could ream his ass for the liberty. “Bullies aren’t welcome here.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Portia snapped.

“Oh, I can. If you’re not gone in thirty minutes, I start making phone calls. I think my network is efficient enough to make sure that dearly beloved husband of yours has his lawyers in action before you get home.” Mack released Dustin before he was tempted to obliterate his nose a third time. “Leave Maryann here. She seems like a nice girl—she might even flourish when she’s not under the heel of a gold-digging, bitter, controlling whore.”

“I want to speak to the owner.” Portia grimaced in disgust when she glanced at Dustin. “We want to make a complaint. File charges for assault.”

His heart skipped a beat, he could admit.

He wasn’t sure if it was that or the smooth, cultured voice behind him that turned his spine to a rod of ice.

“By all means, you’re free to make a complaint.” Elias stepped beside Mack, shooting him a disapproving glare. Setting his phone down on the table, avoiding the blood, he regarded Portia calmly. “What seems to be the issue?”

“Are you the owner?” she demanded.

“One of them, yes.”

“This person ,” she sneered, gesturing to Mack, “approached our table and attacked my companion without provocation. I want you to call the police and have him arrested. While you’re at it, evict his boyfriend and the thing that should be in a cage at a freak show.”

“Thing?” Eli repeated, lifting an eyebrow at Mack.

“Yes, that hairy thing that spends most of its time in the Nursery. The facilities here are fabulous,” she added, altering her voice to compliment Elis’s club even as she snuck in a sneaky verbal backhand. “Such a shame you allow things like that in. It really lowers the tone.”

“It,” Eli repeated again. “I see.”

“Well? Do something!”

“Hmm, whatever should I do?” Eli murmured under his breath, so quietly Mack was sure he was the only one who could hear the sarcastic question. Sharp blue eyes scanned the room as he turned, then he lifted his hand. “Master Grit. A moment, please.”

Shit was hitting the fan, Mack mused, if the Master of Security was getting dragged in. His stomach plummeted; how was Elias going to handle this?

Better than Mack had, no doubt.

“What can I do for you this evening, Eli?” Grit approached, summing up the mess with a keen gaze. “Ah, this must be the conflict I heard over the radio. Two of my guys are on their way.”

“Excellent. They can escort these two to the infirmary, then back to their cabin. Make sure they’re packed and off the property within…” Elias checked his watch, then cocked his head at Mack. “Thirty minutes, I believe. Is that correct, Master Maverick?”

Another hard jolt, this time in his sternum. He wanted to correct the man—he hadn’t earned the Master title—but Elias was waiting for an answer, and he wasn’t the kind of Dom anyone questioned. “Thirty minutes.”

Portia lurched to her feet, hampered by the table. “What the hell? He attacked us!”

Setting a hand on the table, Elias leaned forward, using his other hand to slide the phone across the wood. “Prolonged harassment of another guest and employee of this club. Bullying. Verbal assault of a guest and employee, among other infractions which are being catalogued as we speak. All violations of the contract you signed upon arrival and punishable by termination of your membership.”

“This is bullshit. Have you seen what he did to Dustin’s face? Thousands of dollars down the drain. It’s going to cost a fortune to repair the damage.” She glowered at them. “You have no proof of any harassment or bullying—this is all just bullshit concocted to steal my money.”

“Beast fucker.” Elias enunciated the words perfectly, coldly, in that stiff accent. “Kissing an ape’s ass crack. Fucking that monstrosity is a twofer.” With a smile to rival a razor’s edge, he arched his brows at Mack. “I sincerely hope your dick is not into beast porn, Maverick. That is not the kind of reputation we want here.” Hard blue eyes returned to Portia. “Neither do we require members who take great delight in tormenting and harassing other guests.”

“You were listening.”

“Master Maverick possessed the foresight to maintain an open line before he approached you. I heard everything from start to finish.” Straightening, Elias gestured for her to leave the booth as two security guards joined them. “Your memberships are revoked; you are no longer welcome here. I will take the opportunity to remind you of the NDAs you signed, prohibiting any discussion of Serenity business outside of the club.”

“I want that bastard arrested!”

“That’s your prerogative, of course. Mack has the full backing and support of Serenity, including our lawyers. We have enough evidence to prove he was provoked into acting in defense.” Utterly unflappable, Elias shrugged a shoulder. “Likely more than enough to pursue a civil case against you for discrimination as well. That inheritance you’ve spent eighteen months cultivating could be gone before you see a cent.”

Portia sneered. “No one would take that seriously.”

“No? I believe a federal court in San Francisco awarded a man one hundred and thirty-six point nine million dollars in damages for racially-based harassment.” Retrieving the phone, Eli slipped it back into his pocket. “What you’ve done to your victim is discrimination. You saw a face you didn’t like and did everything in your power to make sure she knew it.”

“I’ll destroy your reputation from east coast to west,” she promised, seething with hatred as she stepped from the booth. “If you think I won’t make you pay for this one way or another, you’re sadly mistaken. And as for that abomination… well, she might just end up having an accident.”

Mack leaped before he thought about his actions. He felt the slam of something impacting his chest, yet there was no pain; it was smothered under the need to disassemble the woman who so casually threatened Sierra’s life.

Elias kept him back with an arm. “We take death threats seriously, Ms. Kenworth.”

“Death threat?” She had the gall to look shocked. “I never—”

Grit stepped in, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes met Mack’s for a split second, but the warning in them was clear— do not say a fucking word. I’ve got this. “Seems to me, people like you make a habit of throwing threats around. Don’t get what you want, when you want it, and you get nasty. There’s one little problem with that—want me to tell you what it is?”

“Oh please,” she answered with a roll of her eyes. “Enlighten me.”

“Those hands aren’t made for work. You’d snap a nail and cry for a week if you had to do anything more than lifting a cocktail glass. Which means when you want something done, you pay for it. No matter what it costs.” He didn’t react when she hissed at him, a feral cat trapped in a corner. “Word to the wise, Ms. Kenworth. I have connections of my own. Lots of them, digging deep into the dark web. If I find anything that I think might be you trying to seek revenge, I’ll unleash my monster.”

When she opened her mouth, he just tapped a finger against his own to demand her silence.

“The beast in my corner is a world apart from the soft soul you’ve labeled as one. You have no comprehension of what you’ll be up against; you won’t even see it coming.” Expression flat, Grit jerked his chin toward the door. “My advice to you is take the deal Master Elias offered. Pack your shit and leave. Forget all about this place, and we’ll do the same.”

“How stupid do you think I am? Beasts and monsters, the dark web.” Waggling her fingers in mock terror, Portia laughed. “By the time I’m done, I’m going to own this stupid club and all of you. Starting with watching this bastard,” she continued, indicating Mack with an irritated flick of her wrist, “being dragged off in handcuffs.”

“If that’s your decision,” Grit replied amiably. He shifted his weight, turning slightly to peruse the room. More members were filtering in as the peak hours began, and he took his time searching the faces. “Little tiger, come here please.”

A white-blonde head lifted, seeking his voice.

Mack couldn’t help but smirk. The dread in his gut eased slightly, because when Tabitha got involved, shit seemed to get done without a lot of fuss.

Little tiger was an apt endearment, he realized as she prowled over to her Dom. She was slender, yet her exposed skin stretched to perfection across toned muscles. Every step was a study in feline grace—she knew exactly what her body was doing, how to control it, and the knowledge was so ingrained, she didn’t even have to think about it.

Violence shimmered around her in a dark halo.

Beautiful but fucking deadly.

“You summoned me, oh Master?” Tabitha leaned against her Dom casually, but her eyes were cold and sharp as they scanned everyone involved in this little ruckus, finally landing on Portia.

Grit lowered his head, whispering in her ear.

Slowly, Tabitha’s stare became lethal as her body became more. Subtle shifts in her muscles, a change in her stance from easy to weaponized. She gave the impression of being a loaded gun, aimed steady and true, just waiting for someone to pull her trigger, all while gleaming like a freshly sharpened sword.

So different from the woman who’d suffered numerous panic attacks in short order because her Dom suggested anal sex.

She licked her lips in a predatory manner, then rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. Nodding lightly, she didn’t take her eyes off Portia for a second, and the blue… fuck, the blue of her irises turned arctic.

When she grinned, Portia’s skin became translucent.

“Yes, Master Grit.” Mimicking a vampire—which wasn’t out of the realm right now, Mack mused—Tabitha ran her tongue over her canine tooth. “It will be my pleasure to take the trash out. One bag or two?”

Portia pushed past Eli to latch her claw-tipped hand on her boyfriend’s arm. “Come on, Dustin. If we stay here any longer, God knows what insanity we’ll be infected with.”

It took all Mack’s willpower not to laugh when Tabitha just reached out and wrapped the length of Portia’s brunette hair around her wrist, yanking the woman’s head back without mercy. “I’m afraid you had your chance to leave peacefully. Now I get to show you what a real monster looks like. Ready to play?”

Grit signaled the two security guards to escort the subdued and very bloody Dustin from the bar. The guy already sported the makings of two black eyes, and his nose and cheeks were swollen. Blood was drying… everywhere.

Dustin was a gusher.

Taking no prisoners, Tabitha dragged Portia away, leaving a trail of squeals and outraged protests in her wake. Grit’s submissive didn’t pay her any attention, just relentlessly hauled the bitch to wherever she was going.

“Well, that was unpleasant.” Scowling, Elias shook his head. “Thank you for not murdering anyone on club property, Maverick, but next time try not to rearrange their faces on the furniture. Even if the arrogant twat deserved it.”

“Is that going to bite you on the ass?”

“I shouldn’t think so. By the time Tabitha gets finished with the brat, I can’t imagine Ms. Kenworth will feel inclined to retaliate, especially since I intend to contact her husband if she does.”

“What if Tabitha hurts her?”

“Grit won’t allow it. Her job today is purely to intimidate, psychologically. God knows that bitch needs some mental reprogramming.” Eli patted Mack’s arm. “Good thinking, calling me before you stepped into shit. This might have turned out a lot differently on the wrong side of the argument if you hadn’t.”

Mack’s jaw tightened. “How can they talk about someone like that without any knowledge or compassion? It’s not even like Sierra poses a threat to them, yet they were tearing into her like vultures—what the fuck did they say to her face if that’s what they were spewing behind her back?”

“Maybe she’ll tell you, maybe she won’t. She didn’t need another blow to her confidence—you and Liam have some work to do, but she’ll find her stride with time. Those two will be banned, so you can reassure her she’ll never see them again.” Eli turned his head, finding whatever he was looking for. “Go find your lovers, Mack. Help Liam get her over the first hurdle. I’ll take care of Maryann and this unfortunate mess.”

“I’ll clean up. It’s my mess, after all.”

“The cleaners have it under control. Blood requires a protocol for health and safety reasons. You know where to find Liam?”

“Yeah. If you’re sure—”

“I am. You did well, Mack, defending Sierra. Take pride in it.”

With a slap on the back, Elias beelined toward the bar, and the pink-blonde woman sitting all by herself with her head in her hands. The woman whose friends left without giving her a second thought.

Blowing out a long breath, Mack wondered whether a stiff drink might relax some of the tension in his aching back and shoulders, then decided against it. A night of loving Sierra demanded sobriety, not giving in to his own desire to relax; whatever stress he felt about the situation was considerably less than what she was suffering through right now.

At least he could go to her, satisfied he’d done his best. After all, he’d drawn first and last blood, left one of her bullies with a physical reminder of what being a cruel asshole reaped, and discovered their friends had their backs no matter what.

If Sierra wasn’t hurting as badly as she was, he’d happily call it a win.

Liam

It crossed his mind more than once to ask Tabitha what she’d charge to annihilate the animals responsible for this current nightmare. He’d sell whatever he needed to, work triple the hours, to set a thick wad of cash in Tabby’s hands and point her in the right direction.

For almost an hour, Sierra was inconsolable.

He’d carried her from the bar on his hip because her legs wouldn’t work. The arms around his neck couldn’t stop trembling, anymore than she could stop the tears.

Whatever they’d said to her—and he believed there was more than the few tidbits she’d already told him—had undone five fucking years of building her confidence and self-worth. They’d unraveled her, plucking at the loose ends still vulnerable, and reduced her to ashes.

Concern began to spread its roots as the time passed and Mack didn’t return. Had he actually done what Liam had been dreaming about and given the savage little brutes some eye-for-an-eye treatment?

Part of him yearned for it, to taste their blood for what they’d done.

Instead, he focused only on Sierra, soothing the shakes and rubbing her back as the heartbreaking sobs threatened to choke her. She’d tried to evade his touch, obviously taking the comments of you don’t deserve a Daddy seriously, but he’d shut that shit down in thirty seconds.

Wyatt’s death caused enough of a rift between them, he wouldn’t allow another one to widen it when they were so close to finally healing.

It took forever for her tears to dry, the sobs to slow and finally die, and then for her to relax into his arms and just breathe.

It was days like today when he wished people could feel the damage they did to another human being. That the bullies who stripped others of their dignity could suffer the exact same way as their victims.

Gently threading his fingers through her hair, Liam managed to take his first easy breath in over an hour. Sweat dampened her scalp, tears wetted her hairline. Her pale face was swollen and blotchy, the muscles going slack after what felt like a lifetime of strain. “Babygirl, what am I going to do with you?”

Her fingers clutched at his trousers, kneading the way she did whenever she was persecuted by her emotions. Self-comforting—she had that down to a science. “I’m sorry.”

They couldn’t afford to tiptoe down that alley again, he thought. They traveled the same path each time she suffered a setback—meltdown, apologies, soothing. The system worked, but they never advanced; many of her triggers were still active despite every effort to mute them.

“I don’t want you to apologize for bullies being assholes, Sierra. The horrible truth is, there’s always going to be someone with a nasty tongue and twisted opinions who’ll take pleasure from the pain of others. It’s just life.” Christ, he felt like he was kicking a puppy. Lecturing her instead of comforting her as usual. “How can I make you more secure in us, minx? Five years of loving you, being with you through thick and thin, and three idiots with malicious intentions undermined everything.”

He honestly didn’t expect an answer—he wasn’t sure there was one.

Sierra was who she was, and he loved her for it. The frustration that came along with her insecurities was his problem, not hers, and he tolerated it because loving her outweighed the annoyance of frustration, exasperation, irritation.

He showed her he loved her; she just didn’t see it.

Felt it, yes. Knew it, yes.

See it? In that respect, she was blind.

An idea began to form. A little bit twisted, even for him, but the more he thought about it, pieces began to slide into place, slotting together into what might be a stroke of genius or an absolute clusterfuck.

It was still early, he mused. There was time to organize a different kind of evening to the one he originally planned. If he wanted to achieve maximum impact on her weakest spots, tonight was the deal opportunity.

Where the hell was Mack when he needed him? The guy was smart—ten minutes into a conversation on computers and tech innovations was proof of that—but he lacked a sense of direction sometimes.

“I want to try something, Sierra. You’ll either love it or hate it, but I want to give it a shot. Will you trust me?”

“Always.” She rubbed her cheek against his thigh.

At least that never faltered. No matter how much she doubted herself, her appeal, her faith in him was set in stone. On occasion, it unnerved him to think how far she’d let him push her, even though he’d never betray her trust.

“Thank you.” Giving her one last stroke, he urged her to sit up, pressing an open bottle of water into her hands. “Drink this, Sierra. All of it. Crying that hard for so long, you’ll be dehydrated.” He leaned forward, kissing her sweetly. “I need to set some things in motion. Stay here.”

“Yes, Sir.” Obediently, she took a slow sip.

“Good girl.” Liam stood and wandered over to the doorway of the quiet area, searching the room beyond for Mack. The rigging bays were empty aside from one couple just setting up; no sign of a tall, handsome Dom.

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, Liam thought about who he needed to pull this off, and which order to contact them. Scrolling through numbers, he selected the first of many.

“What can I do for you, Liam?” Levi answered almost immediately.

Straight to the point; Liam liked that about him. “I need a favor, Levi.”

“Hmmm. Color me intrigued.”

“Are you booked tonight?”

“Actually, my appointment for the evening cancelled not long ago. Someone got slightly overenthusiastic with a knotted flogger and ruined the canvas. We’ve had to reschedule.”

Liam frowned. “Is the sub okay?”

“Yes. Her Dom was very contrite and immediately sought medical attention. She’s fine, just bruised and a bit sore. Unfortunately, the bruising isn’t what we were going for in this particular shoot.” His voice was so casual, it might as well have been shrugging. “So in answer to your question, me and my camera are free.”

Check one off the list. “Perfect. Do you have rigging available?”

“Dude, I have everything. My studio is a one-stop photography empire, ready to capture whatever fantasy dirty little minds can conjure.”

“This is what I need.” Liam proceeded to lay it all out, flying by the seat of his pants. The basic bones of the plan were solid, he just had to flesh it out—preferably before he dropped Sierra in the middle of it. “Is that doable?”

Levi snorted. “I’ve had stranger requests. Give me thirty to set up?”

“That’ll work. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Liam ended the call and dove straight into the next. With each conversation, the idea became tangible, finally making sense. He was halfway through the third and final call when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, alerting him to a familiar presence.

Mack strode toward him, long legs eating up the distance. An air of violence followed in his wake, reflecting in those mercurial blue-gray eyes.

Fuck, he was sexy.

Liam’s cock lurched, distracting him from Fordham’s reply. Ignoring the lust heating his veins, he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah, half an hour. Levi’s studio. Appreciate it, Ford.”

Mack stopped in front of him, close enough their boots bumped.

As Liam ended the call, his skin began to prickle under the assessing stare of the other Dom. Determination, curiosity, and the simmering aggression warred over Mack’s face before his hand lashed out, grasping the back of Liam’s head, and dragged him into a kiss that tightened his balls to the point of pain.

Hot damn.

Though it went against every instinct, Liam kept his hands still. No point scaring Mack off by grabbing him. As first kisses went, this was a fucking doozy.

It had been a long time since he’d felt a desire to be the bottom—after Aaron broke his heart, he hadn’t had another relationship involving a man until Wyatt. By then, he’d grown a pair of balls and established himself firmly in the top position, but Maverick… fuck, the residual hostility from whatever happened with the three bullies was thrumming through him into Liam, firing through his blood, making him edgy.

They broke apart.

Stared at each other.

This time, they lunged at each other.

Christ, he wished he’d been a fly on the bar wall, just so he could learn what ignited Mack from laidback, easygoing straight guy into the man whose fingertips bit into Liam’s scalp as their lips seared together.

If this was Mack’s first same-sex kiss, he didn’t show any qualms about locking lips. He didn’t skimp on intensity or confidence, taking control effortlessly and conquering Liam as efficiently as he’d claimed Sierra.

This is my equal .

Giving back as good as he was getting, Liam pushed back, pitting his dominance against Mack’s simply to see who would gain the upper hand. It wasn’t particularly surprising to discover neither of them gave an inch.

Equals.

It had a nice ring to it.

Growling, Liam eased back, dragging his teeth over his lip to savor the taste. “Not complaining, but what the hell brought that on?”

Steel-colored eyes smoldered into his. “Dealing with those heartless fuckwits made me mad. I shouldn’t have taken liberties—sorry.”

“Christ, not you too. If I hear that damn word again, someone really will be sorry.” He wouldn’t be too upset if Mack decided to push the issue—as well matched as they were, spanking him would be a prize won after a fierce battle.

A battle Liam was willing to wage.

Down, boy.

Mack blew out a calming breath, offering a rueful smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across two people more vile in my entire life. The worst of it was, the woman seemed to be the instigator. The guy was just her sidekick.”

“Did Eli handle them?”

The smile faded into a grimace, but his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Eventually. Just in the nick of time, I guess you’d say.”

“What did you do?”

“The sidekick’s plastic surgeon is going to be happy.” Mack lifted his hands, palms outspread. “The sidekick, not so much. Bastard deserved more than a broken nose if you ask me.”

What the hell? “Eli broke the guy’s nose?”

“No, I did. Smashed his smug face into the tabletop. Twice.” His features began to harden again. “They didn’t even see her as human , Liam. A toy for their amusement, that’s it.” He lowered his voice, his next words dripping with venom. “If you knew what they called her, how they degraded her… the spineless little fucker is lucky I didn’t give his dentist a reason to celebrate.”

“At least you left him alive.” Liam wasn’t convinced he could have. “What about the girls?”

“One was sweet, redeemable. She removed herself from the situation when the other one started giving me shit. Eli was talking to her when I left—her friends got kicked out and didn’t even bother looking for her.” Mack’s mouth twisted in disgust. “The other one, Portia, is a gold-digging bitch. If she ever had a soul, she sold it to the highest bidder.”

It was good to get a clear picture on who’d traumatized Sierra. He could at least visualize them being escorted off the property, banished back to whatever hell they came from.

He wouldn’t be as restrained as Mack if he saw them again.

“They made you so angry, you decided to go rogue?”

“Angry isn’t the operative word. Think bigger, badder, hotter, more than angry. I’ve never wanted to beat someone to death or rip their tongues out, but that’s where they pushed me tonight. When I came over here, I tried to think how I could burn it all away before I got within touching distance of Sierra, then there you were. Something just snapped and I thought fuck it . I want Sierra, Liam, and she comes hand in hand with you. I know the kind of relationship you had with Wyatt; I’m starting to believe I need the same.”

Liam narrowed his eyes. “You know what that entails, right?”

“You don’t have to spell it out. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, how much I have left here, I already know I can’t walk away. This relationship is a triangle. Sierra’s connected to you, and to me. That leaves one side of the triangle dangerously unbalanced. If I left, there’d be no triangle at all.” He exhaled slowly. “God knows if I’ll be a good top or bottom when it comes to you. Unfamiliar territory, if you get my drift. I’m willing to try if it restores the balance and means staying here with you. Both of you.”

There was no denying Liam felt that same imbalance. He’d felt it before, that discordance, only last time the reason came down to Wyatt and his to-and-fro attitude toward Sierra. Loving her one moment, hating her the next, and never fully comfortable with the physical consequences of her health.

“Don’t force yourself to become something you’re not just to be ours. It doesn’t take long to start resenting others.”

“Did that kiss feel forced?” Running his thumb over his swollen mouth, Mack grinned. “Didn’t feel that way to me. There’s chemistry here, Liam. Masses of it threading between you, me, and Sierra.” He banged his fist against his chest. “It hums in here, stronger when you two are near. There’s no resentment, no sense of changing against my will. I’m becoming who I’m supposed to be, doing what makes me happy for once.”

Liam thought of Sierra, how she was flourishing here. Part of that wasn’t just different scenery and a reprieve from unsavory memories. It was the atmosphere, and yes, a lot of it was Mack. He understood it because both were having the same effect on him. “All right. We’ll ride this out to the end as planned. If you still feel the same then, we’ll talk to Sierra about the future.”

“I will.”

“I believe you.” Liam laughed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ, let’s just see where tonight leads. There’s been a change of plan.”

Mindful of the time, he took Mack through his idea and the steps he’d already taken to get one thing through Sierra’s stubborn brain.

She deserved love.