Authors: Maren Smith
T
his was not the kinky, depraved thing she’d been hoping for.
Chelsea watched while Dominatrix Nurse and Stripper Nurse finished splinting her broken hand. She
had, of course, known the Castle had several resident “doctors” and at least two infirmaries, but she hadn’t realized they were fully functioning, not until Kade had her up against a garden wall and his attempt to pin her arms resulted in a cry of very real pain. When he noticed the bruising and swelling on her right hand, against all her protests, the fun stopped and this was where he’d dragged her.
Despite the shiny black latex of Dominatrix Nurse’s costume and the barely there outfit of Stripper Nurse, both women seemed to know what they were doing.
“Are you a real nurse?” Chelsea asked the Stripper.
“Nope,” she said, every movement she made as she bent over Chelsea’s wrist showing off her ample cleavage. Whether it was for her benefit or Kade’s, Chelsea didn’t know, but Kade, observing from a chair in the corner, made no effort to hide his enjoyment of the performance. “I’m an M.D, actually. Trust me, one hour here beats an all-night stint in the ER on Halloween, New Year’s Eve and Friday the 13
th
all rolled into one. I love it.”
“Me, too,” Dominatrix added. “You’ll need x-rays, but I can tell you right now, that hand is broken. Your wrist isn’t looking good either. Would you like to take the bus in to Granger Emergency Medical tonight or to the General Care Office in the morning?”
Chelsea groaned.
“I’ll get my car,” Kade said at the same time Chelsea said, “Just wrap it, I’ll be fine.”
Kade rounded on her, one dark eyebrow arching while his customary smile morphed into something sterner. “You’re not fine, Beth. Your arm is broken. Your wrist is the size of a softball and has turned three different shades of purple in the last hour alone.”
“I’m fine!” Chelsea said, half exasperated and half laughing. The last thing she needed was a hospital bill she couldn’t pay, but Kade wasn’t swayed. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her. What was it about him that could make her sex tighten like this while all the rest of her cringed?
“You are going,” he said, “if I have to tie you up and carry you out to the car.”
“When I said I wanted kinky and depraved, that wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“You won’t always get what you’ve got in mind; you’ll get what’s in mine, because I am the dominant and you want to do whatever it takes to please me. Don’t you roll your eyes at me, little girl.” He laughed, but there wasn’t as much amusement in it as there was determination and riled authority. “You think a broken hand is going to protect you? Oh, Red, you have no idea who you’re playing with.”
Stripper Nurse snickered, but Dominatrix was more sympathetic. “A real hospital can also give you better painkillers than what Castle regulations restrict us to.” She held up two single-dose packets. “If you want something for the ride in, I can give you aspirin or ibuprofen.”
“Ugh!” She almost rolled her eyes again. “Do you have Aleve?”
The fetish doctor dug through her drawer until she found an individual packet.
“Two Aleve all day,” she quipped as Kade came to help her down off the table. “That’s all I need.”
“My car; right now. Move it, Red, before I decide what you really need is to spend the next three hours at the hospital with a piece of ginger root up your ass.”
She giggled, but she was already headed for the door.
“You think I’m joking?”
“I think I’ve seen the limits of your depravity and I doubt they include roots.”
He laughed, catching the door and holding it open for her. “Challenge accepted. Baby, when we get done at the hospital, you and me, we’re going to have us a nice, long chat.” He slapped her bottom, play chasing her out into the hall and because she was paying more attention to him than where she was going, she suddenly crashed into a broad unyielding chest.
Both Kade and Jackson, the owner of said chest, quickly grabbed for her before she turned so recklessly that she whacked him with her wounded arm.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, but her embarrassed laughter died when she caught sight of Jackson’s stern face. He wasn’t smiling. Not even a little, and neither were the two security guards who flanked him.
“Master Marshall’s office,” Jackson said, flatly. “Both of you. Right now.”
The consequences had just caught up with her.
* * * * *
“I’ll do the talking,” Kade said, giving Beth’s good hand a squeeze. They were sitting on the bench just outside Marshall’s office, a security officer on each side as if they’d committed some unpardonable sin. Considering where they were, that struck Kade as being incredibly funny, but he couldn’t quite make himself laugh. “Don’t worry. He’s not mad at you. This one’s on me, sweetheart. He hates drama. I’ve done nothing but create drama since we opened our doors. You’ll be okay. This one, it’s all me.”
“No, it’s not.” Beth kept her splinted arm close to her chest, one knee bouncing nervously up and down. “You didn’t hit that woman; I did. A whole room full of people saw me do it. You don’t think I’m going to get arrested, do you?”
“This isn’t about that.” Kade checked his watch. “Trust me. He doesn’t react like this over a catfight.”
“Then what—”
Kade was wondering what the hell was keeping Marshall when he suddenly noticed all the color simply bleed right out of her face. She stared at him with those huge green eyes, her mouth open,
her sentence unfinished.
Swiveling on the bench, Kade cupped her cheek, capturing her complete attention. “I’ve been playing with fire for so long, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to actually get hurt by it.” He caressed her bottom lip, stroking gently back and forth with the pad of his thumb. “I wish I hadn’t touched her.” It wasn’t just Mischief either. There were a lot of women right now that he wished he hadn’t touched. He pulled a heavy breath, then pasted on a smile. “Don’t worry. This is my mess to clean up. Trust me to protect you.”
She didn’t relax, though—probably the submissive in her, afraid of disappointing the alpha male in charge. She might even be afraid of losing him.
The no-drama rule didn’t rank as high as the no-gags rule, but it was one Marshall expected all Castle employees to heed. Kade might own one-sixth of this business, but that didn’t automatically mean he wouldn’t get fired if he created the situation that resulted in two guests needing hospital care.
Surprisingly, though, the thought of no longer having a job or even a place to live became instantly secondary to the fear that his leaving meant Beth would be reassigned to someone else.
“I’ll take care of this,” Kade said again, giving her hand another squeeze. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince that time.
When the door to Marshall’s office opened, Kade hit his feet, but he still had to catch for Beth, who surged forward like a misbehaving teen eager to explain herself before a disapproving parent. But, it wasn’t Marshall who exited.
Kade tsked, giving the plump blonde, Mischief, a disgruntled frown. Her nose was bandaged and her eyes were bruised, but she still strutted past him, giving her round hips an extra beguiling swish. When she drew abreast of her rival, Mischief stopped, cocked both her head and her hips, and with arms folded across her chest, boasted, “Thangs to u, I’b gedding a privade session with Basder Barshall hibself, so ha.”
Kade didn’t think Beth could be any less impressed, but his perverse pride in her soared when she struck an even snottier pose and, leaning in close, replied, “I’ve already had three of those, honey. He’s not that dewy.”
God, he loved her for saying that. He loved the look of seething resentment that sizzled in under all of Mischief’s misplaced smugness. He just plain loved her.
Oh, Jesus Christ, he loved her. When the hell had that happened? How had it happened? A cold pinch of panic seized his chest, but there just wasn’t time enough right now to deal with it. Master Marshall was standing in the open doorway of his office and he did not look pleased to see either one of them.
“Come in.” Ever the courteous host, he held the door for them, but this was no ordinary dressing down of a wayward submissive, nor was it the average morning meeting. All the big players were there. Grimsley. Hardwick. And Jackson, his burly arms folded across his chest, was leaning against the side of Marshall’s implement cabinet. Parker, Sam, Alan and Dominick stood like silent sentries along the walls and bookcases, as somber as statues. Don had driven in for this and he hadn’t worked here since the Castle opened. Even the Bobsey-Twins—Travis and Trevor—were there, standing by the window, mirror images of thinly cloaked disapproval.
He was so getting fired.
Beth looked white as a ghost. He could feel her trembling and the clamminess of her hand as she clung to him. He offered a reassuring squeeze, but he couldn’t blame her. This was not going to be a pleasant meeting.
Closing the door for privacy, Marshall ushered them to the two empty chairs waiting before his desk. “Sit down.”
“Have the police been called?” Beth’s voice was soft, and quavered just as badly as her hand.
In the process of seating himself behind his desk, Marshall paused long enough for the ice of his pale blue eyes to study her. That was a very telling look.
Kade squeezed her hand again, wishing he could spare her this entirely. “I told you, this isn’t about the fight.”
“No, it’s not,” Marshall agreed. “Although that might have been part of it, had I not convinced the other young lady in question not to press charges.”
“She pushed for that fight,” Kade snapped. “She struck first, several times, in fact.”
“Which is how I convinced her to drop the charges,” Marshall coolly agreed. “But now that you mention it, there are a few questions I would like to ask…Beth.”
Beside him, she flinched. Kade couldn’t blame her for that either. Marshall hadn’t been voted the Master of the Masters for nothing. His was not an easy look to stand up to.
“Don’t blame her.” Kade put himself physically between them. “This is my fault and everyone in this room knows it. If you have to look at someone like that, look at me.”
Marshall did. He really was very good at that look. “Your fault?”
“I scene-ed with Mischief a few nights back. She wanted more. I had no interest, but she didn’t want to accept that. The drama that played out at the masquerade—” Kade shook his head, helpless to do anything, but simply accept his own responsibility. “It was because of me.”
Someone—Sam from the sound of it, though Kade didn’t take his eyes off Marshall to see for sure—groaned a rueful laugh.
Marshall’s icy blue eyes flashed and the effort it took to keep his anger under control made his even voice sound strained. “I don’t like drama. I don’t want it here for a reason. A damned good reason, but that is a separate issue and one we will talk about later.”
Kade started to argue, but then the words ‘separate issue’ filtered in. “Wait…you mean this really is about that piddly little catfight? Are you kidding me? That woman was begging to get hit. Talk about misnamed.
Mischief, my ass. You should have called her Bitch—”
“You slept with her. Promised to dominate her for the rest of her stay, or so she said.”
“Oh, bullsh—”
Marshall held up a silencing hand. “And that’s exactly what I told her. By now I ought to know you well enough for that, but this doesn’t have anything to do with Mischief.”
Shifting his weight, Kade blinked twice. “What the hell is this about then?”
“Like I said, let’s ask…Beth.”
Why did he keep saying it like that? Kade blinked at him twice, but Marshall had already shifted his attention. Hands folded on top of her file folder, his blue eyes were locked squarely on the woman beside him. Kade turned and looked at her now too. Her hands were clasped, white-knuckled, in the folds of her blue and sparkling silver skirts. She looked scared, resigned…helpless.
“Beth?” That same cold, clawing fist squeezed inside him again. He was starting to get the feeling everyone else in this room knew something he didn’t. “What’s going on?”
Her shoulders sagged. She wouldn’t look at him, though in the end, she did manage to meet Marshall’s cool stare long enough to say, “I’m really very sorry.”
“I have, honestly, no idea what to say to you,” the Master of the Castle replied. “I typically find one rebel soul for every busload of clients. Every day someone breaks the rules in some way, shape or form, but you…Congratulations. We don’t even have a contingency in place for what you’ve done.”
Kade stood there, looking from Marshall to her, struggling to find the angle in which this conversation made sense. “What did she do?” he asked again, beginning to feel a little foolish. He wasn’t used to feeling like this. It unnerved him.
“I just got off the phone with Ben.” Marshall looked at her. “You remember Ben, your boyfriend? Well, I’ve just spent a considerable amount of time with him explaining why he couldn’t have a full refund of his vacation. And then his girlfriend, Beth—you know, the
real
Beth—got on the phone and explained to me why, in fact, he could. So now, having established who he is and who she is, and to whom your pilfered stay truly does belong, the only question I am left to figure out is…
you
.”