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Jude pulled him close and slowly kissed him, again and again, until he felt Snow relax against him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I love you. All of you. Past, present, and the future we have together.”
“I love you too.”
When Jude stepped back and looked around the room again, he definitely noticed a few men giving Snow welcome looks. And yeah, some were very familiar.
Jude couldn’t help but smile as he threaded the fingers of their free hands together. Snow lifted an eyebrow, then smirked and fuck, if that wasn’t the sexiest fucking look. For a moment, he forgot why they were there and thought about taking Snow home for their own live porn show. But only for a moment, because the air in the room changed.
A hush fell over the crowd as a man strolled into the area. He was the right height and build as the one they were looking for, but he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows so Jude couldn’t see if he had any tattoos. A mask covered half his face, and Jude’s heart kicked over with adrenaline when he realized this could be the same man. He tried to remember the shape of his mouth, but all he could remember was the toothy grin and his brother’s cries.
It was all he could do not to stomp forward and rip off the man’s sleeves to see if the owl tattoo was on his upper arm.
Another man was led into the room. He was blindfolded, his head whipping right and left as if he tried to see through the black mask. Jude’s back went instantly up because that didn’t look like a willing expression on the part of his face they could see. There was no way in hell he could stand by and watch something if both parties weren’t here voluntarily. This guy was breathing fast and whimpering—obviously terrified.
Nobody said a word, but a few of the expressions around Jude gave him hope. Some looked uncertain about the situation they’d found themselves in. He knew enough about BDSM clubs to know that everyone had to be completely willing. There was a strict code of honor. Seeing others uncomfortable reassured him.
Because when he caused a scene, he’d need backup. He looked at Snow, and from the tight expression on his face, his usual backup was standing strong and ready. Snow’s narrowed eyes had zoomed in on the whimpering guy, and he looked a little green around the gills.
Jude knew that Snow liked things rough, but he also knew Snow’s partners had always been willing. They may have been the noisy sort, because Snow had professed to liking the screamers, but always one hundred percent consensual.
He looked back at the guy now being strapped onto a Saint Andrew’s cross. His thin body quivered in a way that screamed the opposite.
The first guy started unbuttoning his shirt, and Jude held his breath as familiar tattoos hit his vision. His hands curled into tight fists as rage roared through him. He took a step toward the guy only to have Snow grab his arm to halt him. It took everything he had not to run forward and beat the living shit out of that guy.
Before he could figure out his next move, a man next to him spoke up.
“Is that a willing sub?”
Jordan’s rapist turned and snarled at the man. “Does it matter?”
“Fuck yeah, it matters. What kind of shit show are you putting on here if he’s not?” This came from another of the Doms who had his own sub on a leash. Even the sub looked pissed.
The man who’d let them into the house, Bill, stepped forward. “Everyone here is willing.” He stepped up to the shaking man who was strapped into the cross and stroked his head. “You agreed to this of your own free will. Tell them.”
The guy didn’t say anything, and Bill grabbed the back of his hair.
“Tell them,” he ordered.
“Okay, okay. I agreed.”
That didn’t sound like consent to Jude and apparently, he wasn’t the only person here with a damn conscience, because the first Dom who spoke up stepped forward. “He is obviously here under duress, and I can’t agree to this scene.”
Voices broke out in the room as people started arguing. Jude tuned them out, his attention on the man who had hurt his brother—the man now putting his shirt back on just as a someone threw a punch. Within seconds, a fight had broken out.
“Come on,” Snow said into his ear. “We need to get out of here and call the police.”
The fighting grew worse as someone crashed into a mirror and shattered it. Bill started yelling, but nobody was listening as fists started flying.
“Hell no,” Jude muttered. “I got a chance here.”
He surged forward through the crowd to get to the one who’d hurt his brother. Donald. His name was Donald. Fucker. Jude pushed past two men who had pulled a third off another and hauled back and punched Donald in the face. The eyes behind the mask flew open wide, then shut as his nose made a crunching noise. He brought his fist up into Jude’s gut, but rage and adrenaline dulled any pain. Jude let another punch fly, relishing the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The guy’s head flew back as he stumbled a couple of steps.
