Chapter 17

Landon watched Colette lean towards a dark-skinned Dom with wire rim glasses.

Don't you fucking dare, woman.

"You look dangerous tonight." Andrei tipped his glass to his lips.

"I'm dangerous every night," Landon snapped back.

Andrei snorted in amusement. Landon winced. Okay, yes, that was a fucking stupid statement.

"Master Leon is a good man." Andrei extended the arm holding his glass towards Colette and pointed. "He'd take care of her."

"How's about you shut the fuck up? Git."

"Maybe she's doing it so you'll come get her. Some people need to be forced into their submission."

"That's an oxymoron in BDSM. Submission is never forced."

"Don't be reductive."

Landon blinked, glancing at Andrei for a moment.

"People are complicated. And sometimes, when what we need feels wrong, we can't do it on our own. We have to be pushed." Andrei took a long sip. "Forced." He said the word with an almost relish that had Landon narrowing his eyes. "We want someone else to blame when we give in to the need."

Landon's brows rose in surprise at that last statement. This was the first time he'd had any sort of philosophical BDSM discussion with the other agent.

"Looks like your girl is about to join a scene," Andrei said.

Landon whipped around. Colette was kneeling on a low table behind another sub, who leaned back against her. Colette's head was bowed, the curtain of her hair hiding her face.

Landon set his beer bottle down on the bar with a snap, a cold anger crackling inside him.

"Ah, this will be good to watch," Andrei purred.

Landon stalked across the club, the music pounding in time with his heartbeat. He'd told her. He'd warned her.

Master Leon looked up from his seat in an armchair facing the low table.

"Landon," he said cordially.

"Leon." Landon inclined his head. "I need to take Thief."

Leon arched a brow.

"She's not supposed to be scening." Landon didn't look at Colette.

"Ah, she didn't tell me that."

"I figured. Do you want me to find someone else?"

"No, another sub isn't necessary for my plan. I just think Jewel looks pretty with her head resting against another woman's breasts." Leon smiled at his sub.

"Thief," Landon said, finally shifting his attention to Colette. "Come with me."

Colette watched him from under her lashes, and he couldn't read her expression. When she didn't move, Landon slid his hand around her neck, over the collar.

Colette lay her cheek against his wrist.

Fuck.

Landon moved around behind her, releasing her neck to grip her waist.

He hauled her off the table, Leon leaning forward to steady his own sub who was suddenly without back support. Colette swayed into him as he set her on her feet.

As if seeking his touch. Needing a connection between them.

Wishful thinking. She'd probably been drinking. "How many drinks have you had?"

"None, Sir."

Landon closed his eyes, fingers tightening on her until she gasped and relaxed against him. He believed her, believed that soft, submissive tone coupled with the way she'd just relaxed against him despite the tightness of his grip.

Most people jerked away from pressure, but she went soft and submissive under the pressure of his hands. It was a reaction that was unique to submissives—the need to submit overriding the instinct to move away from physical threat or pain.

She was giving all the signs of a sub desperate to scene. One who was already in sub space.

Colette whimpered. It was barely audible over the music that thumped through the club. It wasn't a sound of pain or fear, but need.

He'd been fighting a silent battle, but that sweet little noise she made broke the stasis that gripped him.

Landon hauled her away from the other couple, to a relatively unoccupied area near a stage with a wooden horse on it. Landon turned to face Colette, holding her by the upper arms and bending to catch her gaze.

"Do you need to scene?"

"Yes," she all but sobbed the word. "I just need…I need to give up control." She blinked tears from her lashes. "At least for a while."

Landon looked at the empty stage, then back to Colette. "What's your safe word?"

* * *

Colette was jittery with need.

She'd thought she could handle wearing Landon's collar. Thought it would make it easier for her to deal with what was going on around her in the club.

She'd been dead wrong.

Landon's collar made her hypersensitive and hyper-aware of the kinky play and power exchanges all around her. She literally ached with the need to submit.

When the Dom with glasses asked her to help with the scene, her tenuous control faltered.

It had been a sweet relief when Landon arrived, radiating Dom outrage. She was stubborn enough that no matter how desperate she was, she wouldn't have gone to him. She would have tried to scratch the itch by assisting with scenes.

"What's your safe word?"

"Rembrandt."

Landon snorted. "Really?"

"Yes, Sir."

If Colette were being honest with herself, she'd acknowledge that no one but Landon could give her what she needed.

And that was terrifying.

But not scary enough to make her pull away when he guided her up onto the small stage.

"We haven't negotiated this scene, or gone over a checklist, so we'll keep it simple."

"Yes, Sir."

"Master Landon," he corrected.

"Yes, Master Landon."

Or you could just call him Master. It would feel so good.

"Do you know high protocol sub postures?" he asked.

"Some of them."

"Inspection position."

Colette spread her legs, bracing her bare feet more than shoulder width apart and stacking her wrists on the top of her head. It felt almost surreal, that the literal years of sexual tension between them might finally be coming to a head.

Landon dropped to one knee in front of her, his hands circling her ankles. She looked down at his dark head and wished she could lace her fingers through his hair.

Palms and fingers skimmed and kneaded their way up her calves. He traced patterns on the sensitive skin at the back of her knees. When he reached her thighs he changed the angle, so his palms were on the front of each leg and his thumbs skimmed her inner thigh.

She gasped when his fingers touched the edge of the neon yellow panties.

"Do you want me to touch you here?"

"Desperately, Master Landon."

The pad of one thumb stroked over the gusset of the panties, a light pressure against her pussy lips.

Colette jumped, nearly coming out of her skin as pleasure rippled through her.

"Sensitive?" he asked. "Or on edge?"

"Both."

"Then we'll wait. I don't want you coming too quickly."

"That's just mean, Master Landon," she murmured as he started unhooking the front closures on her corset.

"Is it?" He paused to run one finger gently along the seam of her sex, the light touch maddening.

She gasped, back arching as she tried to tilt her hips to increase the pressure.

But he went back to her corset, his big, strong fingers tucked under it against her belly so he could get a good grip.

One hook at a time he freed her, his fingers working their way up her hot flesh.

"Exhale," he commanded.

Colette breathed out, and he undid the top few closures, his fingertips brushing against her captive breasts before the corset fell away.

Her nipples were hard with arousal, her breasts feeling loose and soft after hours in the corset.

She'd been so caught up in this moment, in her own need to submit and be touched, that she'd forgotten why she couldn't be naked with Landon.

"Colette."

Something in his tone made her go still. She opened her eyes, looking down at him.

Landon was staring at her side, his jaw clenched so tight that the muscles stood out in stark relief.

He was staring at the long cut that ran up her torso.

Merde.

His gaze rose, locked on hers. There was fire in his eyes, a heat that made her gasp.

"Who did this to you?"

* * *

Landon hauled Colette down the playroom hallway, ignoring the few people who watched them curiously.

Colette tried to yank free of his grip, but he didn't release her wrist.

It was time for them to have a long overdue conversation.

He slammed open the door to her room, yanking her in behind him before whacking it closed.

As he whirled to face her, they were both breathing hard. Colette was mostly naked, wearing only the high-waisted club sub underwear and his collar. She had one forearm crossed over her breasts. It hid her nipples, but made her breasts plump enticingly above the band of her arm.

Fury had gotten him this far. But now that he stared at her, now that he could see the long, angry-looking injury in the normal lighting of the bedroom rather than the dramatic lighting of the club stage, he had to acknowledge it wasn't just fury, but fear that gripped him.

Fear for her. Fear that something had happened, something had been done to her. An injury, that if it was only a little deeper could have killed her. Could have caused her to cease to exist.

And he would never have known.

Never realized she was in danger and needed help. Never known she was cold in the ground somewhere instead of dashing across rooftops with a smile on her lips.

"What happened?" he snapped.

Colette smiled, and it was fucking infuriating.

Good. It was much safer to be angry rather than gripped by a cold panicky fear.

She took one more deep breath, exhaling the air slowly. As she did her demeanor melted and shifted until she was totally calm and poised.

He wanted to shake her. To put her in peril just to see if it was even fucking possible for her to admit when something was wrong.

"What happened when? There're quite a few things that have happened that I didn't, and won't, tell you about." Her smile widened. "Be specific."

"That fucking massive cut on your side is recent. Which means it probably has something to do with this game you're playing."

"And if it does?"

"If it relates to this case, to either case, then it impacts your safety."

"Maybe I scraped myself."

"I know a fucking knife cut when I see it."

"And my being injured by a knife impacts my current safety?"

"It fucking does. Because it means you were in a fight. A fucking knife fight, Colette." Landon ran both hands through his hair. "You were up close and personal with someone who was trying to kill you."

"It wasn't…" Colette swallowed, her smile faltering.

"Did you kill them? Are you trying to escape a murder charge?"

"No, I didn't murder him." She closed her eyes. "I would have, if I could. Then I'd be safe."

He had half a second to process that statement before her face crumpled. That calm poise had been a paper-mache front that crumpled under the strain of whatever it was she'd been though.

Landon froze. She looked frightened and vulnerable. Totally unguarded.

A second ago he'd wanted her scared, but now that she was, he would do anything to alleviate that fear for her. Anything to keep her safe.

"Colette." He took a step towards her, oddly unsure.

She looked at him with eyes luminous with tears. He expected her to turn away. Maybe ask him to give her a minute, the way she had last night.

Instead she shook her head, hair dancing against her cheeks.

"Colette." He wasn't sure what else to say.

She shook her head one more time, looking up.

The impact of her gaze hit him like a freight train. She was asking him for something with that look, but he didn't know what. Couldn't process the raw, seething emotion he saw in her eyes.

She took a tentative step towards him, and he mirrored the move.

With a sad sound that was almost a sob, she threw herself against his chest.

Fucking hell.

Landon wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. Her arms squeezed him, and he was aware of her naked breasts pressed to his chest, only the thin cotton of his shirt between their bodies. But wasn't sexual, or wasn't only sexual. The nakedness highlighted how soft and vulnerable she was. How small in his arms when her personality so often made her seem ten feet tall.

"Who did this to you?" This time it was a soft query.

"Did Interpol arrest them?" She tipped her head up. "The information I gave, was it enough to arrest them?"

So that was who'd cut her. The fact that she'd been up close and personal with criminals who viewed human beings as commodities left a bitter fear taste in his mouth.

"Them being the Russian organized crime group?" he clarified.

"Yes."

He wished to God he could say yes.

"Not yet."

Fear sparked in Colette's eyes and she jerked out of his arms, backing up. She turned to her suitcase, which was open on the small desk, and grabbed a long shirt, pulling it on.

"Your information checked out," he said. "They told me that much this morning. But the lead investigator wants more information."

Colette reached up under the hem of the shirt which reached the top of her thighs, and tugged down the yellow club sub panties. "I told them everything I know."

"Clearly you didn't, because you never mentioned the confrontation or fight that ended with you cut up."

"Because it wouldn't help Interpol find or arrest them."

"You don't know that."

She tossed first the yellow panties, and then a black thong, to the side. He stared at the fallen underwear for too long, then looked back at her, waiting for her to take the final step and undo the collar.

Colette faced him one more, her arms crossed under her breasts.

She didn't touch the collar.

"If my information is good, why haven't they been arrested yet?"

"Because your information is good. The lead investigator wants to take out the whole network."

She shook her head, hair lashing her cheeks. "You have to arrest him—" Colette cut herself off.

"Him who?" A white-hot rage sparked and crackled to life in Landon. "Who took a knife to you, Colette?"

Her shoulders slumped and she sank down on the edge of the bed. "Damien."

Landon joined her, one knee pulled up on the mattress so he could face her. "Last name?"

"I don't know, but if Interpol checked my information, they have it. Though maybe Damien is an alias. It's what he called himself."

"What happened?" Landon kept his voice calm and soothing, not wanting to upset this confessional.

"He decided I should…stay with him. When I said no, he objected." She motioned vaguely to her side.

Landon shook his head. "Decided you should stay with him? Come on, Colette. I need actual information."

"Fine." Her eyes flashed with fire when she looked over. "Here's information. Damien is looking for me. I tried to hide, to evade him, but he has too many resources, and too many people. I need him locked up, which is why I came to you."

"Is he looking for you, or whatever you stole from him?"

She flinched as if he'd struck her, and Landon felt like an ass, though the question was valid.

"How stupid. I forgot that as far as you care, I deserve to be chased and hunted and…" Colette stood, but Landon yanked her back, this time onto his lap.

She sat stiffly on his thigh. "Let me go, Landon."

"No." He threaded his hand through her hair, tightening it gently. "No," he said again.

Colette sagged against his chest.

"Is this why you need to scene?" he asked against her hair. "Because you've been holding all this fear and tension about Damien finding you?"

"Knowing you were on the other side of the door is the safest I've felt in a long time." She spoke so quietly he had to lean in, their cheeks brushing, so he could her. "I've been able to sleep because you were there."

Her confession made his heart slam against his ribs as his stomach clenched.

Everything she'd said was probably bullshit. She was probably manipulating him.

Right now he didn't fucking care.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"

"Because my super glue and I had it under control."

He blinked. "You…super glued your cut closed?"

"Yes. That's what they do in hospitals."

"For fuck's sake, Colette. I'm pretty sure they don't use super glue." Landon turned, gently tipping her onto the mattress. "You should have gone to a doctor."

"I was busy."

Landon rose. "Stay here."

It took him less than three minutes to gather supplies from the large first aid kit in the small kitchen and return to Colette's room. She'd changed out of the long t-shirt into a matching tank top and sleep shorts set. The top had a sleeping panda on it, and it was so unlike her usual casually chic look that he stopped.

"Sleepy panda?"

She turned, showing him that there was a matching panda image on the butt of the shorts.

He snorted, though the soft, stretchy material cupped her ass enticingly. Now was not the time for ogling her. This was first aid.

Colette had taken time to change, but there was one thing she hadn't removed.

She still wore his collar.

"Lie down."

"Yes, Sir." The smirk she shot him said that she'd meant the words as a taunt, but they didn't feel mocking. It felt like she was being a good, obedient sub and letting him take care of her.

Colette stretched out on her side, legs bent. He set the first aid kit and towels down in the space behind her knees and eased the hem of the tank top up.

Colette's breathing was unsteady as he exposed the length of the cut. It sliced from her ribs down nearly to her hip. He brought the bedside lamp closer so he could see, then put on gloves. He gently cleaned the length of the wound with a pad soaked in sterile water. Small pieces of what he assumed were dried glue flaked off with each pass of the gauze.

He inspected every inch of the wound, his brain unhelpfully picturing what this would have looked like fresh.

"There are a couple of spots that aren't healed." He grabbed large sticking plasters and after dabbing on ointment, put the bandages over the areas that looked the most raw. He wasn't sure if it helped, given that there was probably still a layer of super glue on her skin in those spots.

"I know. They were still bleeding a few days ago." She twisted to look at him. "There was this asshole at Interpol who kept throwing me against the wall…"

"Fuck." Landon thumped his forehead against her shoulder. "I'm a fucking asshole."

She laughed softly, patting his head. "It's okay, normally I'm into that."

Landon raised his head, gaze holding hers. Something shifted between them.

Slowly, Colette sat up, her eyes soft. Landon rested back on his heels, watching as she swiveled to sit on the side of the bed, one knee on either side of his body as he knelt on the floor. The insides of her knees pressed against his waist.

It wasn't the first time they'd been in this position. He had a vivid flashback to something that almost was, with a woman he should have realized was a thief.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For taking care of me."

"I want to take care of you." He gripped her hips, making sure his hands were low enough that he wasn't touching the cut. "But you have to let me."

She started to look away, but Landon hooked a finger under the collar and tugged. He felt her throat work as she swallowed.

"Colette, either you tell me to get out of your room, or we're going to have our scene. Right here, and right now." Landon was holding on to his control with both hands, and if she told him to leave, he'd do it. It would exhaust the last of his reserves, but he could do it.

Her eyes were soft, her gaze focused on his lips. "And what if I don't want you to go?"

For a moment he was back in that hotel restaurant, and something uneasy slithered through him.

Landon pushed to his feet, backing up a few steps.

"Tell me to go."

"I don't want you to go." She spread her legs, toes braced on the floor. "Master Landon."

Landon held her gaze until she submissively lowered her lashes.

"Then get on your knees."