His Only Hope: The Maison Chronicles, Book 2 (14 page)

Katrina had cleared her drive down to the main road using her pickup truck and its snowplow attachment. The ice was melting on the black pavement, rivulets of water running into the snow banks on either side. While the view from this side of the house wasn’t as stunning, Gabe still found a measure of peace in it. They were high on the mountain, so acres of lush green forest sprawled below. On a clear day, he’d be able to see Los Angeles, but not today. A burned patch here and there marred the landscape, but also gave it character. Low clouds still hung in the sky, threatening another bout of snow.

Yeah, that’s about how he felt, gray and gloomy and as if something horrible were looming on the horizon. He had an idea what it could be, but Gabe forced his mind away from such things. With his giant fuck up on a constant loop in his mind, there was little room for anything else. Each replay hooked into his heart and ripped a piece away.

What had she ever seen in him? And how he not seen this dark part of himself? True, he hadn’t played in over two years, which was plenty of time for that kind of darkness to fester, but still. The signs had to have been there…somewhere.

Cradling his head in his hands, Gabe closed his eyes and lost himself in the nothingness created by the snow. People were inside, the animals were quiet, even the trees blowing were muffled by the heavy snow on their branches. Everything except the cold and his agony faded away.

This whole weekend had been a selfish mistake. Why hadn’t he just called Katrina to refer Hope? He’d used it as a bribe instead, knowing he’d find a way into a scene with her. And that was the real kicker—under the guise of wanting closure, he managed to get it. Just not the way he’d envisioned it turning out.

The door behind him popped open and Gabe lifted his head. Master Joseph walked out, cigarillo and lighter in one hand, folding chair in the other.

“Mind if I join you? The little lady is being troublesome and I needed an escape before I punish her again. Seems like you had the same idea.”

Gabe sent a noncommittal nod, so deeply ensconced in his own regrets he had little loathing left over for this man. Joseph lit up and took a big puff of his cigarillo.

“So, kiddo, what are you doing up here?” he asked.

“Just getting a breath of fresh air,” he replied grudgingly. So much for his quiet escape.

The man exhaled a big puff of strawberry-scented smoke. “Ah, your slave being a righteous bitch too?”

The man’s voice and words grated on his fried nerves. “Something like that.” Gabe prayed the man would leave him alone if Gabe were antisocial enough.

“Mine, she’s a little brat.”

So much for that brilliant idea. Joseph seemed to talk just to hear the sound of his voice.

“A good beating set her straight, though.”

Gabe’s head shot up and he stared at the man.

Joseph nodded. “Yep, she’ll not be uppity again.”

Wanting the full story to take to Kat, he prompted, “Women. Can’t live with ’em, can’t beat ’em too hard.”

Joseph nodded again, exhaling more strawberry smoke.

“What did she do?” Gabe asked.

The other man tried to blow a smoke ring, but it came out as a misshapen puff. “She owed me ten strokes for speaking out of turn at breakfast.”

Ah, a man who loved his high protocol. 24/7 if his limited knowledge was any indication. It was so not his kink, but Gabe nodded, trying to keep his face blank.

The man continued. “When we got back to the room, I ordered her to select the instrument of her punishment. The uppity cunt chose a paddle.”

“But didn’t you ask her to choose?”

Joseph rolled his eyes. “You must be new at this. Asking her to choose is a measure of her guilt. The harder the punishment is, the more she acknowledges your dominance over her and her need for your forgiveness.”

Blood pressure skyrocketing, Gabe said, “What exactly did she do at brunch?”

Throwing him an annoyed look, Joseph replied, “She dared to introduce herself to Katrina Lamont as if they were equals.” Joseph’s look said he expected Gabe to get it.

Yeah, definitely old-school high protocol. Just begged for the subs to mess up, given the contrast to real life social norms.

With eyebrows raised, Gabe dug further. “Ah, she hasn’t learned to wait for permission yet. I’m surprised you didn’t punish her on the spot.”

“I thought about it. But she’s a little exhibitionist. Probably disobeyed in hopes of getting a good public walloping.” Joseph reached out and patted Gabe on the knee, tapping ash from his cigarillo onto Gabe’s boots in the process. He fought down the instinct to grab Joseph’s smelly tobacco and chuck it over the rail.

“Now listen closely. Without you, a slave is nothing, but sometimes they forget that. Take breakfast for example. My slave eats what I give her, no more, no less. She talks when I give her permission, and at no other time. And when someone new is introduced? She keeps her damn eyes down and does
not
shake hands with anyone until I say so.” A vein had popped up on Joseph’s temple during the tirade and it now throbbed with passion. He smoothed a hand across his chin as a lecherous smile slithered across his lips. “But it makes it even better to punish them when they break even the most basic rules. Some of the slaves will only learn through severe discipline.”

Joseph shifted in his seat as if he was rearranging a hard-on.

Gabe’s stomach turned. “She sounds like a handful, but you obviously have experience with this kind of woman.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” The man gave a bitter laugh. “I had this one slave a few years back, and she was a little cunt.”

Gabe reeled at the insult but played along, needing as much ammo as possible. He nodded at Joseph.

“Hot young thing, barely twenty, and with the tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Redheads, damn, they’re fiery.” Joseph waggled his eyebrows and Gabe’s stomach curdled.

“Really. So she was one that couldn’t be tamed?”

He laughed, a nails-on-the-chalkboard sound. “They can all be tamed, with the right Master. She was fun because she held out. The best part,” Joseph leaned in, “is breaking them. They’ve got all this spunk, but once you’ve handled them right, they’re docile as lambs.”

Gabe didn’t want to hear more. He got up to leave. “Sorry, man, I’ve gotta grab lunch. Low blood sugar and all that.”

Joseph nodded and gestured toward the door. “Be my guest, kiddo.”

Gabe turned to go and had one foot in the door when he heard, “Hope could have been my greatest conquest too.”

He spun around so fast he had to steady himself on the doorframe. “What did you just say?”

Shaking his head with disappointment and smug superiority, Joseph explained. “Hope was her name, and I’d hoped, ha ha, that she would be my perfect slave. She was so malleable, so sexy, and all mine. I’d been her first everything—first fuck, first Dominant, first punishment. I’ll tell you, that was a high.”

“What happened?” he gritted through his teeth.

Joseph’s long-suffering sigh grated on Gabe’s already raw nerves. “She broke her contract and I had to let her go. She was being punished and whined that the whip had cut her.” He scoffed. “It was nothing—a little red welt, and she was acting like she was going to bleed out! I denied her aftercare as further punishment for questioning my judgment. The next morning, she was gone, and with my locking cuffs and eternity collar too! I thought about prosecuting her for theft but decided she wasn’t worth the hassle after all.”

Gabe stalked over and, without thinking, yanked the fuckwad to his feet. He growled in his face, “You are a pathetic excuse for a man, and an even worse Dominant. Hope is a beautiful woman, and your treatment could have left her broken inside if she weren’t so strong. She deserves to be worshiped, made love to, coddled.”

The man’s eyes flashed in anger. “Then we must not be talking about the same Hope. The one I knew needed the pain.”

“Hope O’Shea does not need to be beaten to be happy!”

A haughty grin replaced the ire on Joseph’s face. “Ah, so we know the same woman. It’s her escape, kiddo, and if you can’t give it to her, that’s worse than what you say I did. You’re damning her to carry all that sorrow and tension, letting it build up until the pain of it drives her mad, or worse.”

His eyebrow cocked in challenge and Gabe shoved him backward to stumble over his chair and drop his cigarillo when he fell to the ground.

“She’s just fine without the pain!” His fists clenched. What did this asshole know about his Hope anyway? Pleasure-pain, sure, but heavy pain? No. She didn’t need it.

He couldn’t give it.

Joseph stood and brushed the snow from his ridiculous leather pants. “Pain is part of who she is. And a man who can’t give that to her is unworthy of her time. I was worthy—she simply couldn’t handle my demands. But after being with you, I’m sure she’ll come running back to me.” He laughed. “A Dom who can’t punish his own sub! I thought I’d heard them all.”

Joseph, who stood at least five inches shorter than Gabe, stalked up to him and said, “Why don’t I just look her up when I get home. No rules against a man having two slaves. I’ll remind her of what a real Master is.”

Gabe clocked him in the jaw with an uppercut. He went spiraling to the deck and stayed there, moaning like a little girl. Turning on Joseph, Gabe hauled ass off the deck. He needed to see Hope, make sure she was okay.

And then think about what Joseph had said.

Exiting the lounge, he found himself face-to-face with Katrina, who had never looked so angry.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk about Master Joseph.” Gabe threw a thumb over his shoulder in the semi-conscious man’s direction.

“Later.” Her terse voice gave him pause.

“Is Hope okay? We didn’t play hard. I checked her circulation before leaving.” He brushed a hand across his goatee.

“Yes, and that is exactly the problem.” Kat’s eyes grew sad. “
Merde
, Gabe, you abandoned your submissive without giving, or even offering, aftercare. You did not bring her down from subspace, you yanked her from it.” Her eyes darted away and she took a sharp breath before meeting his gaze head-on. “I am putting you on probationary status again. No guests, observation for at least your first five scenes, and no overnight stays. Three months.”

Gabe stared at her, his jaw clenched. This was not a time to argue. He had a woman to see. With a curt nod, he said, “And Master Joseph? He’s an abusive bastard. Used to be Hope’s Master and he beat her then refused aftercare. He’s on the balcony. He fell, poor thing.”

The corner of Kat’s lip twitched. “
Oui
, I shall look into it. Clumsy men.” Her serious face sank back. “And I know another so-called Dom who left his sub without aftercare. And beyond that,” she lasered on to him, “he did not even give her enough sensation for catharsis. I am thinking, Gabriel, you should stick to rope sluts. I know many a good Dom who covets your collection of impact toys, and they would gladly take them off your hands,
mon ami
.”

“No. I haven’t had trouble with this until Hope. Until this weekend. It’s complicated, Kat.”

“
Oui,
cherie
, it always is from your perspective. But I think it is simple. You did not care about those other women. You love Hope, I can see it in your eyes.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Do not argue with me. I have seen many people fall in love here, yes? And a woman just bottoming for a man would not be so devastated were he to leave her.”

A stab of pain lashed through his heart at the knowledge that she was somewhere, hurting because of him.

“She is falling in love with you too, Gabriel. Remember what I say, and believe it this time—Hope is a tender woman, but she needs that edge of pain to keep her grounded. Tears may sometimes come of that, but you must trust her to give her safe word if the pain is too much. If you cannot, you must set her free.”

He nodded before walking past her, exhaustion and determination etched in his every movement.

She caught his arm and he looked at her over his shoulder. “You must trust yourself too, Gabriel. I know of few Dominants as good-hearted as you. Make sure you believe it before going back to her or this will simply happen again.”

Chapter Twelve

Jax and Lara had finally convinced her to head back to her room. They said to stay there until Gabe figured out his ass from his elbow—Lara’s words, not hers—but she planned to leave as soon as the roads cleared.

While she waited, she showered and changed out of that damned corset. She even removed the cuffs Gabe had placed on her wrists. That was more painful than she’d expected. The physical reminder of possession was missing, just like Gabe.

She hated being maudlin, but it seemed better at that moment than being angry. Not for the scene, no, but for not telling her about his childhood. Part of her didn’t want to know, didn’t want to make Gabe dredge up those memories, but the logical part of her knew they were already plaguing him, as her experiences with Master Joseph had choked her until Gabe made her talk about it.

Now it was her turn to support Gabe. And she would, dammit, whether he wanted her to or not. He needed to talk about whatever was bothering him, and there was no better time than now. He couldn’t drive off with the roads closed, and even escaping outside would have a limited time frame. No, it was time to corner him and get some answers, for both their sakes.

She’d be putting herself, her heart, on the line. She needed all the guts she could muster.

Back in his room, Gabe threw on a comfy T-shirt instead of his button-up, removed his boots and padded around the carpet in his socks and slacks. He paced, dreading what had to come next. What if Hope refused to see him again?

He had unfinished business with her. She deserved answers, and to give them, he’d have to explain about his father, which he didn’t often do. He feared people would see him as his father all over again, just with a better guise for his sadistic needs.

He’d need to open up about his fears. Let himself be vulnerable as she had been to him.

Maybe he was searching for absolution, maybe recrimination, but whatever the result, things needed to be said.