Chapter 8

Reed's facecould've competed with a stop sign as he struggled along the best he could while helping Caden with his knee all fucked up. They hoisted the body into the camper on Caden's powder blue—or as he would probably call it, Kings of Men blue—Ford F-550. The camper itself appeared to be homegrown without windows and a strange octagonal design. I snorted. If Caden thought that thing wouldn't attract attention, then he wasn't too bright, but I couldn't argue that it looked artistic.

"What do you tell a cop if he pulls you over?" I called from where I stood huddling in my wool coat with my arms crossed near the front doors. I wasn't the menial labor in this situation, and I made damned sure not to even hint that I would be reduced to it. No, Reed served me, not the other way around, even if he did get the privilege of putting his dick in me.

Caden grinned, flashing me adorable dimples. "Usually, I just ask them if they want to hop in back with me for a taste of all this." He slid his hand down his side, then rested it on his hip. With a laugh, he thrust his hips. "Then they roll their eyes and just write me the ticket for blowing through a red light."

Cackling, I shook my head. "You get ticketed in that thing? With bodies in the back?" My heart rate picked up. Hell, what a rush that would be.

"Okay, that only happened once," he said, rolling his eyes. He flicked a couple of blond curls out of his face.

God, he was fun. "I should throw a party. If I did, would you swing through?"

He shrugged and tilted his head back. "I don't know. I do have a busy schedule." He slapped the side of the camper and laughed. "Of course."

Reed's expression soured, and I held in a smirk. He glared at Caden. Oh God, he was a jealous beast, and I loved it. An SUV rolled to a stop near my car, and Cillian and Rowen Shaughnessy climbed out in short order. I didn't miss how Reed carefully ducked to the other side of Caden's monstrous vehicle, out of sight.

Out of mind.

Out of view of Cillian fucking Shaughnessy.

Rowen shot me a small smile the way he usually did. His red hair glinted in the outdoor lights. "Oisín. Ye look good."

"Why thank you." I gave him a little bow. "I didn't realize that I had a second Shaughnessy by the balls." I held up my fingers like I was playing with an imaginary set. "But color me tickled pink."

"Ye didn't have the first one," Cillian growled, shooting me a nasty look as he stormed into the house.

Rowen gave me a sheepish grin. "Cillian's in a mood today."

"It's part of his charm," I said with a wink, then kissed my fingers and blew on them in his direction.

Rowen flushed a brilliant pink that clashed with his hair as he followed his brother inside.

As soon as the Shaughnessys were out of sight, I glanced at the last spot I'd seen Reed. After a long time passed, he peeked around the side of the truck again. My body went still, like some universal bell had rung in my brain and everything began to slide into place in my thick skull.

He was scared of Cillian—that was who his gaze had been stuck on when he'd hidden.

A bizarre sensation similar to hunger churned in my gut, but it wasn't for food.

He was terrified of Cillian.

My beast wasn't scared of me anymore, but he was ready to piss his pants at the sight of Cillian Shaughnessy. Outrage prickled through me, then settled into my groin and lower, giving me a bizarre semi. The rage in me only grew the longer I stared at Reed. His attention was focused on the house, and he quivered a bit, like a rabbit waiting to be spotted by a wolf. Fuck that. I was scarier than Cillian. I'd tangled with Cillian and come out unscathed. Couldn't even get him to hurt me the way I wanted it—though, he'd come a lot closer than anyone else.

Reed caught me staring and his face pinked up as he ducked his head and leaned against the side of the truck.

"We need to get home. I have a surprise to plan," I snapped, walking toward my car. I didn't bother glancing back to see if Reed was following me.

"When's the party?" Caden called, but I couldn't be bothered to answer.

Would Reed be too scared to leave his easy hiding place with Cillian nearby? How far down the prey hole had he fallen? I got in the car and glared at him as he hurried toward the passenger seat much faster than he probably should've on his knee, then slid in with a quiet groan as he massaged his thigh muscle near his injury. My brave, raging Beastie was reduced to scared glances at the front door.

Fuck you, Cillian. This is my Beastie.

"God damn it," I grumbled, then put the car into gear. I stomped on the gas pedal and the car jolted out of my parking spot, hurtling along the drive.

"What are you doing?" Reed asked, hands flailing in the air before buckling his seat belt fast.

"What do you think Cillian will do to you that I won't?" I asked sweetly. I kept my voice soft because I wanted to scream.

He sent me a wide-eyed glance. "Are you serious? You want my dick. He wants me dead."

My vision grayed out for a second and I had to stop the car. Real anger clawed through my gut, and I said nothing as I smashed my foot against the gas pedal again. My body felt like lead, and I could barely feel my face due to clenching my jaw so hard.

Reed touched my arm, and I was quick to grab his thumb and jerk it backward, stopping just before I ripped it off. He grunted but didn't say anything, though I could see him fighting with the new pain as his other hand hovered nearby, fingers twitching.

"You're mad at me," he said, a deep confusion infused in his tone.

"I'm not," I said evenly, then let his hand go. Because really, I wasn't mad. What I was feeling ran so much deeper than that. Was it my fault? Maybe. I'd been too soft on my pet. I hadn't instilled in him who he belonged to yet, and I'd been stupid enough to bring him into public. On the ride home a sick silence settled over the vehicle. Reed kept cutting looks in my direction at a more and more frequent rate until he was staring.

I ignored him so I wouldn't say anything I couldn't take back.

When I was finally in my own driveway with the engine dead, I looked at him. "Go inside. Off the kitchen is a mud room with a sink and cleaning supplies. Get a bucket, fill it, and go start on the blood in my bedroom." I kneaded my thigh while I glared directly into his green eyes. He was a pretty beast, and I was going to have his loyalty and his fear if it was the last thing I did.

"That Caden guy is sending people to?—"

"I don't give a fuck what that idiot biker is doing," I snapped.

Reed narrowed his eyes at me.

"Caden and his boys can deep clean, but you start." I slapped the steering wheel. Now I had to repeat myself? Was it because he'd put his cock in me?

Whatever Reed saw in my expression must've been sufficiently motivational because he didn't say another word, just got out and hobbled inside. He got to the front door, then spun around to glare at me, and I used my phone to open the locks so that he could go in. Motherfucker, I was still pissed, and if I wasn't careful, I was going to take it out on him in stupid ways.

I wanted his fear.

I wanted his violence.

I wanted my pet to be focused on me, not Cillian fucking Shaughnessy.

All at once, I knew a solid truth in my heart. That was the test of whether or not my beast was mine. If he could see Cillian again without instinctive fear shutting down his mind—if I owned all his baser instincts—he belonged to me.

Winning his full attention was my real goal and should've been this whole time.

Leaning back against my seat, relief washed through me. I didn't mind having drives and emotions that took me by surprise, but I did need to know how to deal with them. How to satisfy them. This was so very simple. I was going to mind fuck Reed harder than Cillian ever had, until I was his whole universe. The sun, the moon, the chaotic asteroid that could decimate his life.

Whistling, I got out of the car and went inside, making sure to tap the button on my phone to lock the door behind me. I swept through the house to the kitchen on high alert in case Reed had decided to ambush me. I loved the feeling of floating through the house that the microdoses of adrenaline gave me. The minute I decided to let my guard down would be the one when I died, and I was fine with that. It was a way of life.

After a second, I course corrected and ran up the stairs to my playroom on the second floor, which Reed had yet to see, and grabbed two keys and a small piece of rope, then hustled to the kitchen.

This was going to be good. Excitement bounced around in my chest while I took a big metal bowl out of a cupboard. I filled it halfway with ice cubes from the freezer, dropped in the keys, then poured water on the top until it was almost full. I carried the bowl to the freezer and uncoiled the rope, leaving the end in the bowl and the rest sitting on the shelf beside it.

My clever plan already in motion, I decided to give Reed time and went to my office. I took off my coat and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. Fatigue smacked me as I plopped in the chair. Being upset was exhausting, which was why no sane person did it. Completely shoving away the last half hour of irritation, I settled my attention firmly on my desk. First, I texted Sloan that our friends from Nevsky had trashed my house, which I was pretty sure would prompt a call for clarification at some point, especially since Conall knew I had body disposal going on tonight. Next, I focused on the real problem I had.

Fuck, what to steal for Grady Maher? Sloan wanted something good. It had to be elegant but practical. Grady wasn't like Sloan. He didn't care too much for art on the walls. Yet, it had to impress Sloan also.

I loved a good challenge.

Dancing in my chair, I opened my laptop and started digging through local exhibits to see what was on hand that wouldn't require much travel. It was arguably more dangerous to try to steal in New Gothenburg than, say, in Paris, because a search always started near the crime scene. Smiling, I settled in for a good long stint of research.

I wasn't paying attention, and by the time I stretched and glanced around again it was past ten o'clock. Sighing, I rubbed a hand over my face. Reed could've set up a ton of booby traps by now. Brightening, I hopped out of my seat. It was stupid to leave him alone for this long, but I would never get a good surprise out of him if I didn't.

Humming a cheerful tune, I carefully made my way along the hall to my bedroom. The scent of a strong lemon cleanser tickled my nose, and when I nudged the door and it swung wide, my mouth dropped open. The bucket of cleaning water and a dry rag were sitting beside the dried brown puddle of blood, and Reed was lying on his back on the bed, mouth parted as he sawed logs. His new leather jacket was folded next to him. His light snores were slightly cute. I fought back a smile, then frowned.

Was he trying to get a rise out of me or had he simply fallen asleep because he'd been exhausted from his fear?

The terror I hadn't caused.

My fury began to rise again, but I did my best to stifle it. I had a plan now, so there was no need for this type of thing. My heart still hammered faster than usual and I could feel the thud in the base of my neck.

Shrugging, I figured now was as good a time as any to remind Reed that I could be just as scary as Cillian Shaughnessy. I went downstairs and grabbed my ice block out of the freezer, then took it to my playroom, which wasn't much by some people's standards. The floor was padded in the center with black mats, and there was a solid metal bar overhead for fun things. On one wall was a St. Andrew's cross, and on the other side of the room was a spanking bench. I wasn't picky about the equipment lying around if I wanted to do something. I was happy to improvise, so I hadn't gathered much of a furniture collection. I'd seen rooms that had a piece of equipment for anything you could want to do to a sub, and it had always reeked of lack of imagination—well, that and money.

My blood must've been replaced by helium because I felt lighter than air as I tossed the rope hanging out of the ice block over the bar and secured it like a strange pi?ata. After a few tugs the metal bowl pulled off. I gave the ice block a little shove and it swayed.

Smiling, I went to a corner and grabbed a set of cuffs and a length of solid chain, then snagged a run-of-the-mill lock—the type people used on any locker—and headed toward my bedroom. Reed was still asleep when I slapped the handcuffs on him. He gasped but didn't start struggling until I already had the chain looped around the cuffs and his neck—twice—but by then it was too late. I pulled the metal tight around his throat above his shock collar.

"Walk with me or you die." I flashed him a smile.

"What is this?" he growled. The tinkling of chains as the metal shifted made beautiful music.

I tugged on the chain, and he grunted. He frowned like I'd pulled him out of the deepest sleep of his life. Oh well, I hope he hadn't been dreaming of Cillian. I gave him plenty of time to stand without choking him because I wasn't a total asshole, and then I led him out of the room, past the gym, and to the playroom. When he entered, he froze—but I didn't. He was forced to keep walking. I took him to the center of the room and continued looping chains around him until his hands were stuck to his chest. If he tugged too much, he might cut off his own air supply. I ended things by looping the chain between his legs and back up, where I finally secured the ends to the chain around his chest with a lock.

"There, you're a captured beast," I said, giving the chains a little wiggle.

"What the fuck is this?" His eyes were too wide and he'd gone pale. Perfect.

"I'm not ready to explain yet," I said, flashing a nasty smile. I knew it was my meanest smirk because my jealousy had come roaring back again. He wasn't scared of me or he would have a different tone; he was pissy with me. "Would you have talked back to Cillian like this?" I hissed, then dropped to my knees.

"What are you...? Oh," he said with a low groan as I tugged down his zipper and unbuttoned his pants. I would've taken his clothes off, but they were stuck because of the chain. I whipped out a knife and sliced off his underwear, then yanked the cloth until I had it in my hand and his dick fell out. I started sucking the soft flesh. He plumped up but didn't get hard the way I wanted. Shrugging, I stood. Maybe he was feeling too wound up in other ways to catch wood. Stress did that to some people. I pointed upward at the ice that had barely begun to drip.

"The keys are in there. If you can get free, you can come fuck me," I said, stripping my clothes as he stood with his teeth bared. When I was completely naked, his cock was slightly plumper, but not at full mast the way I'd wanted.

Disappointment and something else I didn't like smashed into my gut—something that made me feel bad about myself—and I stood toe to toe with him. "If you suffocate on the chains, you'll be doing me a favor." I winked and stomped out of the room.

But as soon as the door was closed, I realized I'd fucked up. Worry slammed me. What if he did accidentally tug on his chains in the wrong way and tighten them to the point that he strangled himself? Rolling my eyes, I leaned against the wall to wait. I could check the security camera I had in the room, but a weird part of me felt like that would be cheating right now. For the sake of privacy, I didn't have that one running all the time. It would only take a press of a finger on my phone screen to turn it on.

I didn't.

I hadn't been planning on torturing us both—and hadn't anticipated not really wanting him dead.

Fuck, what was wrong with me?