Chapter 2

Two

Aster, six years later

M y life is far more than a disaster zone. No amount of yellow caution tape can cover the craptastic damage love has done to my life. All love stories do not start the same way. Flowers, fireworks and sultry nights between the sheets. I think we can agree that mine sure the hell didn't turn out that way. The hole in my heart burns as though a poisoned dagger lives in my chest rent free.

I take in a steady breath and let it out to the count of three, but the electricity skittering up my bare arms is hard to ignore.

I'm cursed.

I mentally play with the syllables of the tarnished word.

I'd like to call bullshit, but the proof of my wrecked love for the wrong men is evident from my broken heart. The lump of extinguished coal beats, but refuses to pump anything more than cold blood through my veins most days.

I wince. My heart clenches. I'm not sure how many more bruises it can take before it just gives out.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath as not to draw attention to myself.

I want to be the dictionary definition of what a dutiful daughter should be to my father, but my heart and body don't give a shit what my brain thinks.

I cling to the shadows deep inside The Gilded Key Society and watch as my darkest secrets sip bourbon.

It took a hot minute, but I finally found them.

They're facing the stage where three masked fully exposed men grind against their shared woman. It's a beautiful sight, but my godfathers are not watching the decadent show of skin on skin. Heady music pushes sensual tension into the artificially cooled atmosphere.

But my men don't seem affected by the scent of sex or the heavy sighs filtering through the room. They almost look bored.

Between them is a low table with a bottle, glass and nothing else. No other women or seats for dates, I notice with a sense of relief. I don't think I could take seeing them with another woman, though I know they have every right to seek their pleasures. And if there is any place you can fulfill your fantasies, the luxurious, decadent Gilded Key Society is it.

Set deep inside the marshlands, tens of miles from the noise of New Orleans sits the massive sex club only the elite pertain to. It's the perfect place to lose yourself in a night of sinful decadence. In here it's not so much who you are, rather how much you can pay. Membership starts at a crisp six million and only goes up from there. I did a little digging, but I wasted little time getting my ass to New Orleans once I found them. I also heard there's a special key to get in the place, but I didn't pay the membership fee nor did I get a pretty little key. It's nice to have a few connections. At least my last name works for something.

Anxiety clutches at my stomach. Despite wanting to run to them and beg for them to love me again, I cling to the darkness a little longer and watch. All I have to do is work up the nerve to go to them, but I can't just yet. All the time away from them has left me almost numb. Seeing them again has caused a wildfire in my nerves. Before I can go to them, I have to stop shaking.

I huff a quiet laugh into the glass of white wine I've been sipping all night. I know better than to ask for prayers when I am a sinner at heart, yet I send up my silent whispers and hope someone will take pity on me.

I just need one night with them. I need to know what I feel for them is real despite the time apart.

This fire—this aching burn—is a kind of insatiable barrage of heat against my senses that erodes my control until all I can do is think, dream and fantasize about them. I will do anything for it to stop, but I don't know what it takes to purge all these emotions. Believe me, I've tried everything to no avail. Nothing and no one can extinguish the flames.

Six years ago I thought I had all the time in the world to explore the love I had for them. And then they nearly died because of me. They vanished. They no longer accepted my calls. Just poof. Eighteen years of seeing them in my life every day and then to suddenly have nothing can only be compared to a junkie having their supply ripped away.

It was only by luck and a lot of pleading that I found them at all. I make a mental note to send a thank-you basket to my cousin. He's got a knack for digging up information no one wants anyone to have.

The night of my eighteenth birthday didn't end when they walked away. My father taught me the depths of his wrath. I caress the space over my heart and push the memories he left me with far from my mind. Tonight is not about him.

"They touch you again and I'll end all of you. I won't stop until I see your blood on my hands. I swear this truth on my life. You will never let them touch you again!"

Those cursed words bore into my soul and burn before I can completely extinguish them from my mind.

I had no choice but to agree. Instead of spending my special day with the men I secretly loved, I fought for my life. Every day that passed I knew they were gone for good. I could feel the heat of their love fading.

Until I found them and came up with a new plan. What can I say? I'm nothing if not my father's daughter after all.

So here I sit, nine hundred miles from home, surrounded by glistening hard cocks and palpable sin.

I uncross my legs and stand up from my seat when I see a woman approach. Two lovers spread her out on a button-tufted settee in front of me. Their bodies are breathtaking. A leather bodice pushes her bare breasts up like offerings to the devils at her sides. I know they are not the good boys next door kind. Dirty deeds are written all over their handsome faces.

I brush the back of my fingers over my heated cheeks feeling nervous.

The woman moves to her knees, smearing the pre-cum of one lover on her nipples before offering it to the other like forbidden fruit. And it is. It's an alluring visual of my carnal desires and has me clenching my thighs and my nipples turning hard against the soft fabric of my dress.

The total eroticism drives the breath from my lungs. I raise a hand and tighten my fingers around my throat. Not to cut my air off, but to squelch the cry of torture that wants to break free. I crave what she has and I am tired of being quiet about it like a good, obedient daughter.

Pain so unreal I can't even catch my breath takes over my muscles and locks my chest down tight.

Breathe, you damn woman. Breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

There's only one way to ease the burn of razors cutting into my soul. Slowly, as not to catch the attention of those around me, I use the dim lighting to slip a hand beneath the hem of my dress. If it were Mirsha's hand on me, he wouldn't be gentle. I wouldn't want him to be. Luther's touch would burn hot and Viper would have me dripping all over the three of them with the slightest of touches to my clit. It would be freeing, agonizing pleasure.

My eyes fall closed. Juices coat the tips of my fingers, and I drag my nails over my slick, sensitive folds. I slowly open my eyes to watch the woman in front of me take her lovers into her mouth. First one, then the other. The sight is arousing beyond measure. Currents of sensuality wash over me. Low-tempo music reverberates through the makeshift ballroom and feeds into my unsated desires. Briefly holding her gaze, I slip a finger into my slit and smear more wetness over my throbbing clit.

My mouth silently falls open, and I stroke the tortured flesh using my thumb. Slow at first, but it doesn't take much to send me falling over the edge of a fast ending. I bite down on the corner of my lip to keep from crying out.

Breathing heavily, I ease my hand from between my legs. It's like this every time. Fast release but a hollow side effect after I hit the peak of my orgasm.

Perspiration dots my body, and the warm glow from my release washes over me before dissipating. The pain fades and my hands finally stop shaking.

For now, anyway. The calming effects of my release won't last long. The pain will be back. Just like it always is.

The release dulls the pain that goes beyond the need to simply climax. The ache I have inside me penetrates to the very marrow of my bones.

Without their touch, their body heat and their love I can't function. The worst part is, I don't know if I'm the only one. Do they feel anything from being away from me? Or am I the only one suffering?

God, I'm such a fucking mess. Being here is a mistake. I need to leave and just let them go.

But you can't , cries an insufferable fucking voice in my head and my heart shamelessly agrees. I have to know once if I am the only one feeling this overwhelming consumption.

Bronze sconces and heavy century-old crystal chandeliers dim, throwing the massive space in deeper shadow. A warm-hued spotlight focuses on a raised stage. It sits at the far end of the room where another carnal delight begins for those who love to express themselves for others to observe.

The woman in the leather bodice in front of me reaches orgasm and drifts off to another part of the large room with her lovers in tow. It's then I realize they are part of the next show.

And that is when it happens. I feel the caress of someone's attention on me. My gaze locks with a set of gunmetal gray eyes that turn stone cold the second recognition hits.

Memories wash over me.

His lips. His callused hands. The scent of his cologne. The sight of Viper's dark hair between my thighs. It's been so long since I've heard their rich, dark voices. Longing settles in the depths of my core.

My lips part and a heavy breath leaves me.

"Mirsha," I whisper into the space between us. And just like that fateful night so many years ago, there's no going back now.