Beyond Control(9)

Oh, shit.



Seemed like miracles could happen outside the walls of Eden after all, because he'd rendered Lex speechless.

Not that she needed to talk. Her actions were speaking loud enough all on their own, and so was that ink etched from one hip to the other. Ace's work, without a doubt, recognizable not just by his skill and style but his stubborn adherence to the idea of truth in art.

Trust Ace to turn a simple name into a maze of subtext and hidden messages. Like the rosebuds, so tightly furled, except for the one wrapped around the s. That one looked like it was struggling to bloom in the shadow of his name. The vine climbing the D, on the other hand, was thick with thorns, more than one jabbing into the calligraphic letter. One thorn glistened with a barely visible drop of blood.

That felt about right. Sharp edges and blood, and dragging his gaze from the tattoo only showed him Lex, staring up at him in some confused tangle of brashness and nerves. She might well be too scared to speak--God knew she should be--but she wouldn't show terror with everyone watching.

She wouldn't scratch his face off, either. Probably. Without taking his eyes from hers, he unhooked the carabiner from his belt and held it out. "Bren. My desk, top drawer on the right. Bring what's there."

Bren moved to obey, and the jangle of keys almost eclipsed Lex's words, ground out between clenched teeth. "You wouldn't."

A glance around the room showed plenty of people scurrying to find a way to seem occupied. Half of them were probably straining to hear their words over the music, but most couldn't without edging closer than they were willing to get.

Well, they'd get their show soon enough. He stroked a lock of Lex's hair away from her cheek and wondered if he'd end up bitten for his trouble. "What wouldn't I do, Lexie?"

She struggled beneath him and tried to sit up. "It's not funny--"

He caught her throat, laying his thumb over her rapidly beating pulse as he closed his fingers. Not hard enough to choke, but the precise gentleness of it shut her up faster than roughness would have. She was frozen, half-raised on her elbows, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'm not joking."

Lex shuddered. "Don't," she rasped. "If you do, you can't take it back."

"Can you take the tattoo back?"

She bit her lip. "I guess I deserve it."

"A fate worse than death, huh?" She'd etched an invitation into her skin, but now he was the monster, dragging her to certain death by the hair. It stirred a dark frustration that spiked when Noelle made an angry noise and reached for them. Before she could open her mouth, Dallas jabbed a finger at Jasper. "You keep your woman out of shit that doesn't concern her."

Jasper locked an arm around her and pulled her back. "Not our thing, remember?" he whispered. "Theirs."

"That's right, baby girl. This is me and Dallas." Lex pushed up into his grip, challenging him not only with her movements but with a bold stare. If he didn't pull back, she'd end up grinding bruises into her own skin, forcing him to leave the mark of his hand around her throat.

No winning there. He loathed the idea of leaving marks on her flesh that weren't purposeful and planned. But the only other choice was retreat, and he didn't know if he could back down with her staring at him. Daring him. She'd get what she wanted one way or another...and maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Not with all he was about to take.

He gave her the lingering victory and locked his arm. He didn't need to tighten his fingers, not with her shoving up into his hand. If she wanted bruises, she'd get them.

After too many long moments, she relented, easing back to gasp for breath. The delicate skin of her throat was red, but she acted as though he'd answered a question. "The collar better not be one you've put on anyone else."

He smoothed his thumb over her ravaged skin. "Look at you, jumping to conclusions. You knew what would come of this tattoo, didn't you?"

"Am I wrong?"

"No. Am I?"

But she wouldn't give in, not that much. She averted her eyes. "Your boy's back."

Bren must have run and taken the stairs three at a time to get to Dallas's office and back so quickly. But he wasn't out of breath, and his expression remained calm as he held out the collar. Dallas accepted it with absent thanks and held it up.

It was some damn expensive custom work, made from smooth, supple leather. Flat at the back, it split into four narrow cords on each side, the top and bottom lengths forming a frame for the pieces woven in and out of sterling silver Celtic knots. And at the front, carved with amazing precision, the O'Kane logo, situated where it would nestle in the hollow of her throat.

A far cry from the plain black leather he'd buckled around women's throats in the past, and Lex would know it.

She swallowed hard and met his gaze. Waiting.

No one interfered. No one would, and that made him move slowly. He swept her hair aside, twisting it around his hand and then up. "Hold this, love."

She kept her eyes locked on his as she braced her hands on the cushion and crept out from under him just far enough to sit. She lifted her hands, fingers sliding over his as she took over holding up the mass of her hair.

He'd seen that look in her eyes. The one that said he'd pushed her past fear or anger into driving, vengeful lust. Never before had he taken what that look offered. Blowjobs and spankings were good clean fun, but he didn't f*ck a woman he had to share. Not even Lex.

If he wrapped this scrap of leather around her throat, he wouldn't have to share her--and if he dwelled on that, his hands would shake before he got it fastened. Still moving carefully, he laid the etched centerpiece against the hollow of her throat and admired it for a moment before fastening the collar.

"How does it look?" she asked--low, breathless.

He told her the truth. "Beautiful."

She glanced around, taking note of all the rapt stares, and her voice dropped even lower. "What now?"

Dallas smoothed her dress down before rising to offer the silent crowd a lazy smile. He held out one hand and waited for Lex to take it. She was still wary, unsure of what she'd gotten herself into.

Good. He wouldn't be the only one, he'd just hide it better. He tugged her to her feet and draped an arm over her shoulder. "Now we let Jasper and Noelle have their moment back."

"I don't think it'll matter. Noelle wants your blood." Lex shook her head. "I'll have to talk to her. Later."

A glance at Noelle proved the truth of that. She didn't look like a soft little city girl now. With ink around her throat and her eyes burning with protective anger, she looked like an O'Kane, one who might not be satisfied with his blood if she could get a knee--or something worse--close to his balls. Jasper was talking to her in a low, even voice, but the words didn't seem to be banking that inner fire.

Jasper was either going to have the hottest time of his life tonight trying to tame that, or he'd end up sleeping alone. If he found himself in a cold bed, Dallas really would owe him for f*cking up what should have been a good night. "Think Jas can handle her?"

Lex flashed him a look of sharp rebuke. "If you had any question about that, you should never have let him mark her."

He bit back his retort--that the girl who'd stumbled into their midst wasn't the same one slowly bending under Jasper's words and touches, and Lex should know since she'd been partly responsible for that transformation. But he'd seen the hints of this fierce tiger in the clumsy kitten Noelle had been a month ago, and he was confident Jasper could handle anything she threw at him.

It didn't mean he'd always enjoy it, though. "Collared all of two minutes and you're already second guessing my decisions, huh? You could at least get me a drink first."

She exhaled--it could have been a laugh or a scoff--and nodded once. "Yes, sir." Then she headed in the direction of the bar set up along one end of the room.

Prickly. That was fine. The full impact of what he'd just done was starting to catch up with him, which made the walk back to his couch take forever. The dais was empty, and even Six had abandoned her spot. No one would tread too near with his temper presumably still close to the surface.

If only they knew. The momentary flash of outrage at Lex's presumption had vanished under the gut instinct to turn it to his advantage. He'd missed his window of opportunity on collaring her during the Wilson Trent blow-up, but this time he wouldn't give her a chance to get skittish.

It was a pity that pressing this particular opportunity involved skipping a few key steps. Discussion. Negotiation. The setting of guidelines and the drawing of boundaries. Collaring was ownership, however temporary, and a smart man made sure his idea of ownership fit before trying to shove a woman into it. Doing otherwise tended to end badly.

Lex came back to the dais, a whiskey triple in one hand. The ice clinked as she held it out to him, the perfect picture of submission, ruined only by the glimpse of fire he caught before her lashes lowered.