Sweet Addiction (Sweet #6)(2)

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to wear her twenty-four seven,” Damon said darkly.

Serena just grinned and stroked her fingers over Damon’s hand. Cole winked at her as if to say he agreed with her private assessment.

Distant laughter sounded again, sending a cascade of chill bumps up his neck. This time he reacted much quicker and jerked around, his gaze honing in on the source.

Finally, he saw her.

All his breath left him in a ragged rush. She was facing away, which was why he hadn’t been able to find her the first time. He could just see the hint of her profile. Smooth, dusky skin, creamy, beckoning his touch. A cascade of black hair tumbled down her back, going so low that he lost track of it.

She was petite. He could tell from here that she was a small woman, probably not much more than five feet. Her features were delicate. As she turned, he caught a glimpse of the slim column of her neck, but then she reached up and pulled her hair over one shoulder, baring the expanse of her back.

Her dress was backless and he froze as his gaze lighted on the tattoo trailing down her spine.

He couldn’t breathe. His fingers curled and uncurled as he stared, riveted to the sight. Almost in dread, he raised his gaze to her right shoulder, just over the blade. Would it still be there? Had the years been kind and diminished the reminder of his inexperience?

He couldn’t tell from this distance. Or maybe he didn’t want it to be there. A scar. Evidence of the care he hadn’t taken with a woman who trusted him with her heart and body.

Ren.

What was she doing here? It was her. The tattoo was unmistakable. Delicate and feminine. Just like her. A thin, scripty flowering vine from the small of her back to her nape. He’d traced it many times with his fingers, his mouth and his tongue.

Before he could get to his feet, the man sitting with Ren stood and extended his hand to her. She took it and gracefully rose from her seat. The man’s hold was possessive and intimate, a clear signal that he considered her his.

But when Ren turned where he could see her fully, Cole saw the wide silver band encircling her neck. It was a fist to his gut and he could only stare, so stunned that he couldn’t draw a breath.

He knew the significance of that piece of jewelry. It wasn’t decorative, although it was beautifully rendered and drew attention to her delicate features.

It was a sign of ownership.

A gift from a master to his submissive.

Serena wore such a symbol, but hers was a band that encircled her upper arm. Damon wasn’t a fan of collars. He found them demeaning. Cole agreed.

The surge of jealousy—and anger—that bolted through his veins took him completely off guard.

The man put his arm protectively around Ren, and she smiled up at him as they made their way to the exit. Power emanated from the man—a worthy adversary.

“Do you know him?” Cole asked urgently, glancing quickly back at Damon.

Damon’s gaze jerked up, his brow creased in confusion.

“The man there, with the Asian woman. They’re walking out now.”

“Why would you think I know…” Damon frowned and leaned forward. “Yes, I do, actually.”

“Who is he?” Cole demanded.

“He’s visited The House before, but not often. He prefers to keep to himself.”

“Who?” Cole asked again, his impatience an edgy burn under his skin.

“Lucas Holt.”

“What’s his story? Is he into the scene or is he just someone playing at the game?”

“He’s serious,” Damon said slowly. “His background checked out or he wouldn’t have been admitted to The House. He’s wealthy. Successful businessman. Owns several clubs both in Houston and Dallas. I think he recently opened one in Vegas. He spends a lot of time in Vegas but he has residences in Dallas and Houston as well.”

“Have you ever seen her at The House?” Cole asked. How close had she been all this time? Had they barely missed each other? Had she been present in the very place he frequented?

His pulse ratcheted up and he stood, the urge to go after her so strong that he was almost in motion when Damon spoke again.

“Sit down, Cole. Don’t make a scene. I’ll tell you what I know.”

Reluctantly, Cole retook his seat but watched the pair until they disappeared from view.

“Who is she?” Serena asked in a low tone.

She put a gentle hand on his arm, a gesture of comfort he appreciated, though it took everything he had not to snatch his hand back and go chasing after Ren.

Ren.

God. He couldn’t believe it. She was here. And she belonged, really belonged, to another man. There was a clear stamp of ownership for the world to see. He couldn’t even wrap his mind around it. He’d never imagined that Ren would have gone from their failed experimentation into a submissive relationship.

Jealousy. Anger. Rage.

Excitement.

Longing ate at his gut until his stomach churned and the food he’d eaten knotted into a giant fist.

“Tell me,” he rasped in Damon’s direction. He ignored Serena’s question for now. He had to know all he could about Ren.

Damon calmly sipped his wine, almost as if he were trying to infuse some of that calm into Cole. “I haven’t seen her at The House. But it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen Lucas. He isn’t big into the scene or into public displays for that matter.”