Axel's Pup (7 page)

A bitter taste filled the back of Axel’s mouth. Bayden had backed himself into a corner. The only thing that Axel could do was wait until he sent up a white flag and allowed himself to be rescued. “Fine.”

A trio of men were just leaving the Saint Andrew’s Cross on the other side of the room.

Axel strode across to it, pushing his way through the crowd and taking Bayden with him. Two guys were about to take their turn when Axel stepped in front of them. “You can have it when we’re finished.”

They took one look at him and apparently decided they didn’t mind waiting. They moved back, leaving Axel and Bayden alone by the cross.

Lots of men had been cuffed there since Axel bought the pub—novices, hard-core masochists, collared submissives, and pain sluts. But those guys had known what they were doing, or at the very least had been putting themselves in the hands of a guy who knew what he was doing. And those guys hadn’t been Bayden—for some reason, that alone made a huge difference.

“Give me the exact terms of the bet.”

“Forty lashes—all to my back, on bare skin,” Bayden said.

Axel glared at the cross as if it had personally offended him. If Richards hadn’t specified bondage in this stupid bet, he wasn’t going to get any. And, if Bayden found it harder to take the whipping without bondage to help him stay in place, and called it off quicker as a result, well, Axel wasn’t going to be heartbroken.

“We can take it somewhere else,” Bayden offered again, more softly this time, as if Axel’s disapproval was having some effect on him, even if it wasn’t strong enough to make him rethink the whole stupid idea.

“It’s your choice and your back. If you want to be an idiot, who am I to stop you?” Axel said. He’d aimed for flippant, but hit furious dead on target.

Bayden looked down. His hair fell into his eyes. He had his hands pushed deep into his pockets and didn’t reach up to push it back.

“Do you have enough to cover your side of the bet if you lose?”

“I won’t lose.”

“Yes, or no. Do you have that amount of cash with you?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

Bayden reached into his pocket and calmly took out a fold of notes. He peeled off three hundred pounds and handed it to Axel. He pushed the rest back into his pocket. Silly little rich boy.

Axel looked him up and down. Bayden had ignored fetish wear in favour of the same outfit he’d worn every other time he’d visited.

“You’ll have to lose the vest.”

Bayden stripped to the waist without a word, setting his vest on the seat to one side of the play area. He stepped up to the cross and got into position. His confident movements could have implied that he was used to being bound to a Saint Andrew’s, but Axel was more inclined to think it implied Bayden could work out the bloody obvious.

Axel stepped up behind Bayden. “When you want to stop, say stop—loud and clear. Don’t turn away from the cross until I tell you that you can, or the cat might catch you as you turn.”

“The deal was bare skin,” Richards said, from the edge of the audience.

“The deal was his back—that’s bare,” Axel said, turning to face him.

Apparently, everyone wanted a good view of this particular bastardisation of a scene. The audience was several men deep, with those at the back struggling to see over the shoulders of those in front.

Hale and Griz had secured places right at the front of the crowd. Axel went across to them, checking how good a view he’d have from their position.

“What the hell’s going on?” Hale asked.

“Richards goaded him into taking a bet on a flogging,” Axel said, as calmly as he could.

“You’re saying you can’t stop him doing this in your own damn pub?” Griz demanded.

“And let it happen at Richards’ place?” Axel bit out.

They stood in silence as that sank in.

“It won’t do him any harm if it happens here,” Hale eventually said. “The boy will take a couple of lashes, call a halt, pay his debts and it’ll be done.”

A couple of lashes.
Axel glanced across at Bayden, not sure that Hale’s read on him was as accurate as Axel wished it was.

Grinding his teeth together, Axel took the money off Richards and his friends to hold during the bet before approaching Bayden one last time.

“Ready?”

Bayden nodded.

Axel bit back a curse and stepped away. His vantage point allowed him to see Bayden’s face in profile. He looked calm; Axel felt anything but calm.

Richards stepped forward. Bayden tensed as if he sensed him getting closer.

Richards didn’t waste any time. He brought the cat down hard across Bayden’s back. He wasn’t holding back, or leading into it. Axel had no doubt that Richards hit Bayden as hard as he physically could.

Bayden closed his eyes. That was it. Not a flinch, not a murmur.

Again.

Bayden remained motionless.

Axel tightened his hand into a fist. Every instinct he possessed told him to step forward and stop the bet. A right hook to Richards’ jaw would make everything very simple.

Leather snapped against Bayden’s back. Bayden was timing his breaths between the lashes. That was the only sign he gave of being aware of the whipping.

Richards worked quickly, obviously trying to group the lashes so close together Bayden wouldn’t have any time to recover between them.

Axel counted out the strokes. With each blow he clenched his jaw more tightly. The muscles down the side of his face throbbed. His fist began to cramp.

Twenty. Halfway there. For the first time, Richards paused. He moved away from the spot he’d taken up to the left of the cross.

Axel took half a step forward, thinking that Richards would approach Bayden, but no. Axel silently cursed as he realised what Richards intended.

Richards smirked as he arranged himself to Bayden’s right and moved the cat into his left hand. He brought the whip down hard. Every tail crossed the lines Richards had already placed on Bayden’s back.

Axel stared at Bayden, taking in every detail of his expression and posture. If he hadn’t seen the mess Richards was making of Bayden’s back for himself, it would have been easy to look at Bayden’s face and wonder if the whip was even connecting with his skin.

The control it took for a man to stand there and act like it wasn’t happening was far beyond anything Axel would have expected anyone to be capable of. A glance down Bayden’s body and it was obvious that he wasn’t turned on. He wasn’t the kind of man who could enjoy any kind of whipping—no matter how it was delivered or who was doing the whipping. But, as Axel counted out the lashes, it seemed very possible he was a man who could completely block out what was happening for long enough to take the entire forty lashes.

Axel held his breath as the last few strokes were delivered.

“Forty.” Axel stepped forward as he said it.

Richards lifted the cat to try to sneak an extra blow, but Axel caught the tails mid-way down the length. The ends whipped around and encircled his forearm. Bayden’s blood stained each one. A sharp jerk had the cat out of Richards’s hand.

Dragged off balance, Richards stumbled. “I’m not finished!”

“Yes, you are.” Axel was halfway to Bayden and was about to tell him that he should just stay where he was for a few minutes when Bayden turned away from the cross.

“Was it the whole forty?” No stammer, no slur—each word was enunciated very clearly.

“Yes.”

Bayden turned to Richards. “Did your arm get tired halfway through? You should work on your stamina.”

“I switched arms because it hurts more when you cross the lines!”

Bayden shrugged. If the skin across his back made him want to scream in agony, he showed no sign of it. “If you say so.” His voice remained perfectly steady.

Axel narrowed his gaze. It obviously wasn’t the first time Bayden had played this game. He’d taken whippings on the same basis elsewhere. It might be a stupid game, but it was evidently one that Bayden was very good at.

Even as he stood there, anger at what he’d just witnessed pounding through him, Axel couldn’t help but realise that it was something that anyone who really wanted to receive Bayden’s submission would have to bear in mind. A whipping wouldn’t get Bayden’s attention—different techniques would have to come into play.

“I won,” Bayden pointed out, his tone of voice far more respectful now that he spoke to Axel rather than Richards.

Axel handed his winnings to him.

Bayden looked at the fold of notes then at Richards. “Maybe when you get more practice, you’ll find someone willing to pretend you’re a dom for free.”

Richards stepped forward. Axel snapped back into the here and now and tossed the cat at him. “Get out. Take the other two arseholes with you.”

“What?”

“Out. Now,” Axel snapped. “It’s not a complicated order.”

“You can’t throw me out!”

Axel raised an eyebrow at him. Bayden’s barbs had obviously hit home—Richards usually had more sense than to provoke someone who he knew was capable of beating him senseless. Losing the bet in front of everyone had shaken him. Axel failed to feel the least bit of pity.

“I’m not having any more of this bollocks in my pub.” Axel grabbed Richards’ shirt collar. If he wanted to know if Axel was capable of physically throwing him out, that was fine with him.

Richards flailed around a bit, but there was no way he was ever going to do any harm. The crowd parted, scrambling to get out of Axel’s way.

In the car park, a push sent Richards stumbling in the direction of his car. Richards’ friends scurried out in his wake, probably more out of fear of staying rather than out of any sense of loyalty to Richards. There wasn’t a biker among them. Axel watched them all get into Richard’s car and drive away.

“Axel.”

Axel looked over his shoulder. Drac was at his post on the door. He nodded toward the line of parked motorcycles. Bayden was heading toward his bike.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bayden looked over his shoulder. Axel was striding toward him. A wooden rail ran along the edge of the car park, just in front of the line of bikes. Bayden stopped next to the barrier. He moved his clothes and helmet to one arm so he could steady himself with his other hand on the rail.

His head was spinning. Someone had set fire to his back. And Axel was pissed off. The third fact worried him far more than the others.

Axel stopped in front of him. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m going home.” It was all he could do to keep his voice level, now that the adrenaline was draining away.

“No.”

Bayden blinked at him.

“You’re in no condition to ride.”

“I’m fine.” Bayden turned toward his bike.

Axel caught hold of his shoulder and dragged him back around. A wave of nausea rolled through Bayden.

“You might convince Richards he didn’t hurt you, but I’m not Richards. You can barely stand.”

“You don’t want me here.”

Axel pushed Bayden’s chin up, making Bayden look at him.

Bayden swallowed. “I’m not sticking around to be thrown out.”

“I had no intention of throwing you out.”

Bayden studied Axel, desperately trying to both remain on his feet, and follow the conversation well enough to understand what Axel was trying to tell him. “You’re angry with me.”

“Yes.”

Bayden met his gaze.

Axel let out a strange laugh. “Did you think I’d lie?”

“But I’m still allowed to come back sometime?” Bayden hazarded.

“Worry about that later,” Axel ordered. “Right now, the important point is that you’re not leaving here—not on that bike.”

Bayden automatically stepped between Axel and his bike. “I’m fine.” The fact the world was spinning, and the pain in his back was almost enough to bring him to his knees, was irrelevant.

Axel reached out. Most of Bayden’s attention was on keeping his balance now that he’d stepped away from the rail. He didn’t realise what Axel intended to do in time to stop him from snatching the keys out of his hand.

Bayden lurched forward and made a grab for them, dropping his belongings in the process. “Give them back!”

Axel held the keys out of his reach. “I take the keys off anyone who’s too drunk to ride, and I’ll take them off anyone who’s in too much pain to ride, too.” There wasn’t any hesitation in his voice. He had no doubt he had the right to take whatever he wanted.

Bayden’s instincts said that Axel was acting like an alpha, but experience screamed that he was just another human who thought he could ride roughshod over a wolf, who could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Bayden stared at the keys dangling from Axel’s fingertips. He could take them back, but Axel might get hurt in the process. The idea of challenging Axel’s dominance was almost as off-putting as the idea of hurting him. Bayden curled his hands into fists at his sides. He shook his head, trying to clear it so he could think past the fog of pain.

He glanced across at the pub. There were a lot of humans in there—ones who were bound to take Axel’s side. Could he get the keys, get on his bike and get out of there before anyone else joined them?

He’d heal from a beating but if they went for his bike rather than him…

He glanced at his bike. His stomach turned over.

“It’s my bike. I won’t let you take it.”

“I’m not trying to steal it, pup.” Axel frowned. “But there’s no way in hell you’re riding tonight.”

Bayden was mesmerised. He couldn’t take his eyes off the keys. His heart pounded so hard, it was a wonder that Axel couldn’t hear each beat.

“I’ll put your bike in one of the lock-ups around the back of the pub. It’ll be safe there until you’re fit to ride.”

Bayden shook his head. “I’m not leaving it here.”

“You can either stay here tonight, or I can drive you home. Either way, my decision stands, you’re not riding in this condition.” He said it all very calmly, as if he had no doubt his natural dominance gave him the right to make those kinds of rules.

Bayden tore his gaze away from the keys for a moment. He looked up and met Axel’s eyes. Leaving his bike behind was out of the question. Through the fog, another warning flag went up. Letting Axel see where he really lived was just as impossible. Axel liked a silly little rich boy, and Bayden liked being someone that Axel liked.