Salvation Read online

  I look over and there are three men sitting there that look like they could be brothers with Viktor. Maybe they are. Or cousins or something.

  “Sorry?” I ask.

  “You look like you need a drink,” the younger one says. “First time here?”

  I nod dumbly. He waves down Travis. “What’s your drink?” he asks me.

  I shrug like a dumbass.

  “Whiskey sour’s what Marla gave you.” Travis looks disapprovingly at me, and gives me the drink, but shoots the guys next to me a warning look. Is it my imagination? Is he jealous?

  I hear someone laughing so loudly behind me, it catches my attention, and I quickly turn and look. There’s a crowd of people dressed up in all black, over by the pool tables. I can’t quite tell what they’re doing, but they’re having so much fun. I’m a little jealous, and I know then that I want to be a part of this place. I want to fit in. Have friends that know me and welcome me when I come. And hell, I want to scene.

  “What brings you here?” the man next to me asks. He’s got a similar accent to Viktor. Russian? He pushes my drink to me, and I take it gratefully.

  “Thank you,” I say. I gulp it like I’m dying of thirst. The voice I heard plays in my mind, and I need to get it to stop. I’m not that girl anymore, and I don’t act like her.

  “Whoa, now,” the man says, holding his hand palm down. “Take it easy there. Travis is known for his good, strong drinks.”

  My head is feeling woozy again and my mouth a little thick. “Is he known for good, strong anything else?” I ask.

  Oh my God. Did I just say that out loud? The men just laugh, though. I drink until ice hits my lips. Marla’s with her man. After tonight, I may never be brave enough to return. Tonight, I’m living it up.

  Chapter Two

  Axle

  It’s my first night as dungeon monitor at Club Verge and there’s a blizzard warning. It’s twenty-two degrees in New York City, but that doesn’t stop the kinksters. They’re a dedicated crowd, not put off by things like natural disasters, and anyway, the forecaster who called tonight’s blizzard has a history of doomsday warnings that amount to shit, so people have stopped listening to him. But when Zack, my friend and fellow member of Club Verge, comes in, he comes straight to me.

  “Snow’s already started, Axle,” he says, shaking his head as he scans the crowd. I’m almost used to people calling me Axle. It isn’t my real name, but I’m not the person I used to be, so I keep assuming my new identity.

  “Yeah. I noticed. You looking for Beatrice?” I ask. His wife Beatrice arrived here earlier with her friend Diana. Club owner Tobias, Diana’s husband, escorted them both in, and the two of them were having drinks at the bar.

  “Yeah, I found her. Just sayin’, that weather isn’t looking good,” Zack says.

  “Great,” I mutter. It’ll be easy enough to hail a cab and head home when I need to, but I won’t leave until I know every single person here has gone home safely. Ah, well. I don’t have to work at the shop tomorrow, which is why I took this shift to begin with.

  Still, it’s gonna be a long night.

  “I’ll go see if Tobias is closing early,” I say. “Keep an eye on things here for me?”

  Zack nods, scanning the small crowd and he smirks. “Seems like a rowdy bunch but I’ll do my best.”

  As I go to exit the dungeon, Beatrice and Diana walk in. Beatrice is tiny with crazy blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun. Diana, tall and graceful with a mane of curls that cascades down her back, grins at me. She’s part club-owner with her husband Tobias, and knows this is my first night as DM.

  “Looks like it’s about to get rowdier,” I quip, earning me a playful punch from Beatrice and an eye-roll from Diana. Zack takes Beatrice’s little clenched fist and tsks at her.

  “What do you guys think of the weather?” Diana asks, sobering. She crosses her arms on her chest and looks around the room.

  “Not sure,” I say. “I was just going to see what Tobias thought.”

  “I have a say, too, you know,” she says playfully, but there’s a fire in her eyes. She just wants to remind me that yes, her husband is owner of the club, but she is, too, and it might be good to check my traditionalist views at the door.

  “I know,” I say. “But you’re not sitting in the office. Promise, I’m just being lazy, not a chauvinist.”

  She grins. “I know.”

  “So what do you think?” I ask her.

  She frowns. “It’s not looking good. It’s hard to make the call, though, since tonight’s packed to capacity, and the weather could amount to nothing.” Her eyes twinkle. “You know what? Why don’t you see what Tobias thinks.”

  “You are such a brat,” Beatrice says. “And filled to capacity? Looks like we just got a little busier,” Beatrice says. As if on cue, a large crowd of people enters the dungeon at once. I raise a brow to Beatrice who merely shrugs.

  “Maybe a movie got out or something,” she mutters. Soon, the dungeon is filled with couples and singles, laughing and mingling, and the large room comes to life. The St. Andrew’s Cross in the corner is quickly occupied, as well as several of the spanking benches we have. Verge is comfortably outfitted with some of the finest, well-made BDSM accoutrements, and the classy, cozy atmosphere of Verge typically draws large crowds. We’re a members-only club, though, so I expect there’s been some kind of a meet-up planned for tonight, and this crowd isn’t letting a potential snow storm ruin their fun.

  “Yeah, check with Tobias,” Diana says, then shrugs. “No big deal, though, guys. We all have private rooms, so if it gets bad we can stay here.” Verge has a series of color-coded private rooms long-term members have access to, complete with beds and bathrooms and a variety of tools anyone spending the night might use. My room, the crimson room, is the one at the far end of the hall. Sound-proof and utterly private, I consider it my sanctuary when I want to get to know a submissive a little better.

  Theoretically. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve taken anyone there privately.

  On my way to Tobias’s office, I hear someone call my name.

  “Axle!”

  I turn to find my friend Marla, another long-term member, the resident bookstore owner. She and I have become good friends over the years, as I spend as much of my free time in Books and Cups, her store, as I do at Club Verge.

  “Finally took your advice and hired help,” she says, smiling. Marla’s a petite woman with nondescript brown hair, freckled cheeks, and right now it’s all I can do to refrain from giving her pert nose a little twist. She’s adorable, but I know that would insult her. There was a time when we thought we could be a couple. It became pretty clear we were not dom/sub material, and we cooled things off to friendship-level, but she hates when anyone thinks she’s cute.

  “Good—for you,” I say haltingly. I almost call her good girl, but that’s a term for a sub, not a friend. “Tell me about it?”

  “I have good news,” she says. “I put in ad online, and pretty quickly found someone willing to take me up on it. You know I really need help stocking the shelves and manning the coffee shop.”

  Her store, not too far from Verge, has risen in popularity ever since the local paper did an interview with her. Not only is she known for having the best lemon cake and coffee in NYC, she stocks the most extensive collection of romance novels, particularly those with a decidedly kinky flair. It’s partly why I love her store.

  “So I’m pretty excited for her to start. Chandra has been training with me the past week, and she starts tomorrow.”

  I ignore the clench in my gut at the name Chandra.

  No.

  I knew a Chandra once, but she’s nothing more than a ghost, someone I left behind in my old life. I shove the memories that threaten to surface away, out of my mind, focusing myself on the present. But as hard as I try, I can’t banish the memory of smooth, dark skin, deep brown eyes alight looking at me from beneath lowered lashes. I can still hear her voice. Feel her
touch. Taste her mouth.

  With considerable effort, I push her out of my mind.

  That was then. This is now.

  It’s just a name. A name that belongs to another woman, not the shadow of a memory that makes me shiver like cold, dead leaves in a vacant park.

  “Nice,” I say with a distracted nod, my voice tighter than I intend. “I look forward to meeting her.”

  “Might be sooner than later,” she says in a singsong voice.

  I look at her curiously. “Oh?”

  Marla’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah. It seems my penchant for kinky romance hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

  “Definitely not,” I say with a chuckle. “So you not only recruited a new barista-slash book fiend, you recruited a new member for Verge.”

  “Yup,” she says with unmistakable pride. “Gotta go. Later!” She heads to the lobby.

  I shake my head and take my leave, heading to Tobias’s office. Still, I can’t help but wonder who the new girl is. I’m one of the few dominants here at Verge with no romantic attachments. I watch them come and I watch them go, but no one stirs anything in me. My purpose here is twofold: to meet a need of mine, and to pay for the sins I’ve committed. To offer to others what they need. It’s why I was happy to take on a role of dungeon monitor, give guidance and instruction to those who seek it, even if only temporarily. Though my job as dominant is rewarding, my goal to exercise power and measured pain when necessary, to wield temporary authority with patience and strength, I also seek meekness.

  To whom much has been given, much is expected.

  The biblical refrain of my youth, a memory from a lifetime ago—no doubt brought back by the memory of Chandra—makes me smile to myself. Yes. A dominant wields power. Cherishes trust. And with that gift comes responsibility.

  None of the subs who scene with me mean anything to me, though. None warm my bed at night. None of them ever will. I don’t even know many of their names beyond the names they use when scening.

  I knock on the doorframe of Tobias’s office. His door is never closed, but I don’t like to go in unannounced.

  “Axle.” Tobias doesn’t look up from the computer but nods to the chair in front of his desk. “How’s your first night going?”

  “Good,” I say, taking my seat in front of him. “I just wanted to talk to you about the weather forecast.”

  He looks up from his computer then and looks out the window behind him as if he’s just noticed it’s winter. “Sorry, man. I’ve been totally immersed in these new applications.” He takes his job as club owner seriously.

  “They’re saying potential blizzard, Tobias. The snow’s already coming down.”

  Tobias frowns. “We have new members coming tonight. I’d hate to shut the doors so soon, especially when the forecast has been total shit lately. I’ve closed these doors four times in the past month due to the forecast, only to have not a single flake fly before daybreak.”

  It’s a hard call to make. And it isn’t like a school where children are coming, either. This is an adults-only club, so anyone who arrives comes here of their own volition.

  He looks to me. “Would you close?”

  I respect that he asks advice. He’s got more responsibility on his shoulders than literally anyone else here, yet he asks me my opinion. I think about it, shaking my head. “Nah. I wouldn’t close. If the winds pick up, then we can close. These are all adults. If they’re worried about the forecast, they can stay home.”

  “Agreed,” he says. “Thanks, man.”

  His gaze flickers back to the screen. I get it. He doesn’t want to be impolite and dismiss me, but he has shit to do.

  I stand. “Thanks, man. So there are lots of new members?” I ask, on my way to the door.

  He nods, eyes back on the screen. “Couple of dozen. Mostly word of mouth.”

  Verge is growing and has been since they opened its doors. It’s rare to find a place as classy as Verge in a place like NYC, where the population exceeds some Third World countries. BDSM clubs are aplenty. Trying to find one like Verge is another story. The growing membership is partly why Tobias hired me on as dungeon monitor, to protect the integrity of his club.

  As I make my way back to the bar area, I can hear the wind picking up outside, whistling in the night like a scream. I shiver, and nearly collide into Diana.

  “Sorry, you okay?” I ask, steadying her.

  Her eyes are wide, but she takes a deep breath. “I’m okay. But I need to go. The babysitter just called and Chad fell. Gotta take him to the hospital, and he’s freaking out.” Her son, and Tobias’s step-son Chad, has special needs. It’s rare that she gets called out like this but it’s not unheard of.

  “Okay,” I say calmly, recognizing the need to stay in control for her. “Where’s Beatrice?”

  Diana releases a shuddering breath. “Bea and Zack went to their private room, and I don’t want to interrupt them.”

  I nod. “I’ll walk with you to Tobias. C’mon.” She nods thankfully, and we walk back together to Tobias’s office. Diana explains the problem, and Tobias listens patiently.

  “You’re the one who can calm him down best,” Diana says, pleadingly. I stand to leave, but Tobias calls out to me before I leave.

  “You staying here tonight, you said, Axle?”

  “Yeah, man.”

  “Keep an eye on things so I can get my girl home?” He gets to his feet. “Zack’s here for now, and Brax is, too. Call if you need them.”

  “Of course,” I tell him. “I’ve got this.”

  He gives me a chin lift and stands, shutting down his computer. “Thanks man,” he says. He takes Diana’s hand and he pulls her close. It tugs at my heart a little, but I dismiss the brief flash of weakness.

  “Stay safe,” I tell them.

  “You, too. I’ll call when things settle down at home,” Tobias says. “If we get a state of emergency notice, we’ll have to close.”

  He briefly goes over how to lock things up, then leaves.

  When I walk into the dungeon, I hear a sound that makes me freeze mid-step, as if someone waved a magic wand and halted me in place. It’s a laugh. One that haunts my dreams and conjures up nightmares when it drags my past to the present.

  It’s just in my mind, I tell myself. There’s no way she’s here tonight. It’s the memory that surfaced earlier that’s playing with my head.

  I cross my arms and stroll through the Dungeon. But I’m not really keeping an eye on safety like I’m supposed to. It isn’t until the third brunette looks at me as if I’m crazy for staring at her that I realize, I’m looking for her.

  She isn’t here, though. I’d know that chestnut-colored hair. I’d know her deep brown eyes framed with thick black lashes and dark, beautiful skin. Hell, I’d know her scent from across the room.

  I’ve got to get my head out of the past. I look at the bar. Fuck, I need a drink, but Dungeon Monitors don’t drink while on duty.

  A chorus of obnoxious phone alarms go off at once, including my phone, which beeps and shakes until I take it out of my pocket and shut it off.

  Damn.

  Blizzard warning in effect until six a.m. No on-street parking. Citizens are urged to avoid roads and get home as soon as possible.

  That’s my cue.

  I text Tobias first then Brax and Zack, and in thirty minutes, despite some protests and reluctance from some members, we’ve completely emptied Verge. They head home, but I live a good distance away from here and don’t want to risk the commute. Plus, I’m responsible for this place tonight, and even though it’s vacant, I’m happier staying. My room is comfortable, and I have a change of clothes, food, and water.

  It’s actually kinda nice in here when it’s empty. I double check all the doors and windows, then call Tobias.

  “All clear?” he asks.

  “All clear,” I tell him.

  “Thanks, man. Much appreciated, Axle.”

  We hang up, and I shut off all the lights. I’m heading to my ro
om when I hear a sound that makes me freeze. I wait in the hallway, listening.

  What the hell is that? And where’s it coming from?

  I follow the sound of the noise, then realize it’s coming from the women’s bathroom. Shit. I didn’t even think to look in there to make sure it was vacated. And sure enough, as I approach, I hear a coughing sound and a whimper. I speed up my pace, shove open the bathroom door and freeze.

  There’s a woman kneeling over a toilet. The stall door is closed, and I can only see her knees on the cold tile. What the hell? Her skin is so dark in contrast to the vivid white tile, and the memory of earlier makes my pulse race. There’s no way, though. It wouldn’t even make sense.

  “Hello?” I call.

  I can see the bottom half of her body go rigid.

  “Go away,” she moans, then her body convulses, and she retches. My stomach twists, but there’s no fucking way I’m leaving. I step into the bathroom and wait until she calms. Something in me tells me to leave. If I keep pushing through, this isn’t going to end well. My body vibrates with nerves, and I know that there will be no turning back after this. I push the door open. I know what I’m going to see before I do.

  Chandra. Her head on her arm and eyes closed. Sick as a fucking dog.

  “Chandra?”

  Her eyes fly open.

  “No,” she whispers. “It’s a nightmare. Tell me I passed out or I’m dead.”

  I huff out a mirthless laugh. “Nice to see you, too.”

  Chapter Three

  Chandra

  I want to die. I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Hell, maybe I did die, and this is some cruel punishment for not using my discretion and coming to a place like this. I died, and now I’m in hell.

  After the second drink I had at the bar, my stomach twisted in knots, then morphed to a painful, dull ache. About thirty minutes ago, I found my way to the bathroom and thankfully just in time. I emptied the contents of my stomach, and even overcame my aversion for public bathrooms so I wouldn’t puke on the floor.