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It probably wasn't even calculated. In the human world, men who enjoyed sexual Dominance might get involved in the BDSM scene to embrace it fully. Yet there were some who, with or without the environment to define it, were Masters. It was clear which one Garron was, because he wouldn't have gotten this far with her yet otherwise. Though the steps might seem small to him, they were vast leaps for her. Which was why all of this was so damned disquieting.
His gaze coursed over her, noting the male-pleasing features of the robe. "Do you use that to get what you want?" he asked, his voice neutral.
"My body? At times. I use whatever tool is necessary to do what has to be done."
"An honest answer. Those are the only kind I'm interested in hearing." He stood. "Come with me, my lady. Trust me, the waterfall is worth the trip."
He took her back to the hallway outside her suite, only this time he led her to a smaller elevator at the end of the hall. He keyed in a code and it opened immediately. Once in, he pressed the button to take them down another level. Seeing there were two levels below this one, she wondered how it was possible to go that far into the ground of an island without hitting water. Another of Eden's mysteries.
As the doors closed, her sharp senses detected a faint cry. A repetitive thudding, not exactly like music. The combination made her cock her head, but the sound was gone as the elevator engaged, moved down. Garron didn't react to it, but she didn't think he'd missed it. So far, he hadn't seemed to have any trouble hearing her, or registering her reactions, but he clearly paid very close attention. She wondered if that was because of the hearing handicap, or part of being a Dom at his level of expertise, or some other aspect of his background. She didn't yet know where the scars had come from, but his demeanor and her suspicion it was from a spray of shrapnel suggested a military background.
"You said there weren't any other suites on this floor, but I can hear...something."
"It's in a separate wing, but the BDSM club is on the same level as your suite," he said. "You're probably catching echoes in the elevator shaft from sessions happening there."
"Oh."
The doors opened, bringing her a stronger smell of earth and rock, the more distant scent of salt water. This exit put them in an unfinished tunnel, so she felt like she was exploring a cave. The stone beneath her feet was smooth and damp, small pools of water gathered in places that had her shying at first at the contact, but it was warm, pleasant. She could hear a muted roar, further evidence that they were headed toward the larger waterfall and grotto Garron had described.
They went up an incline, down, around a curve, Garron's body brushing hers as they navigated the turns. Out of all the scents she was absorbing, his was the most pervasive, and she found herself welcoming and anticipating every time he touched her.
"It's easy for someone with strong submissive cravings to think they're ready for something before they really are," he said conversationally. "It's why a lot of subs plunge into a relationship with a Dom too fast when they first hit the scene. You won't have that issue. But beyond that, you have to have a Master that gets it, who knows when to take it slow or speed up the pace."
"Hard to slow down when you only have ten days to do the job."
"I told you. I don't have a job these next ten days." There was humor in his voice, but a wealth of other lustful promises. "You're my vacation."
"If that's the case, you're misclassified, Rand. You're more masochist than sadist."
He chuckled at that, his grip on her arm sliding down to enclose and caress her hand. "I'm not going to rush this, Kaela. We move at the pace I set. The right connections, the moments of trust, can happen in a blink. But only if you don't rush it, no matter how fast the sand runs through the hourglass."
"Cryptic wisdom is barely a breath from empty bullshit."
"That's entirely true. It takes an intelligent woman to know the difference."
She wasn't sure if she shouldn't break his fingers after all, but she settled for letting him guide her on yet another upward incline. This one brought the scent of fresh air and hints of greenery, flowers. The thunder of water grew louder, sending a hum through the rocks.
"Here we are."
They emerged from the tunnel, Garron ducking to clear the overhang. They were outside the castle in an area of dense foliage and discreet pathways. A scattering of stone benches carved with Celtic designs circled a beautiful lagoon that had a rock wall built around it. The waterfall, tall as several levels of the castle, poured along an array of sleek rock in a jagged pattern that reminded her of the dock. A mist hovered over the water, containing a haze of colors from the moonlight. It appeared they had the place to themselves at this late hour.
He drew her toward a stone bench. When she expected to sit on it, he shook his head, directed her to sit on the lowlying ledge around the pool, put her feet in the water. He took a seat on the bench behind her, sitting to her left she could see him in her peripheral vision. He braced his foot next to her hip, his arm stretched out on the back of the bench, all his attention on her where she sat on the ground below him.
Fran often sat at Kaela's feet during vampire events. If it was after the sexual entertainments, she was usually naked, her skin still dewed by orgasm, her head bowed. Kaela would idly stroke her, keeping tabs on her physical and mental state, because the haze that happened after a particularly demanding performance could be extreme. Subspace, they'd call it in the human world. Servants had it as well, that hypnotic trance state that was part euphoria, part numbing peace. She knew because she had seen dozens of servants experience it. She'd even experienced it a couple times as a human, though she hadn't known to call it that. Jared had instinctively known to care for her with extra attention, realizing she needed help grounding again.
Stop it. Stop thinking of him. She was already off balance emotionally. Thinking of the man who'd been part of her life as a human would not help.
Garron leaned forward, resting his forearms on his spread knees. He slid a fingertip along her shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts. "You know," he said quietly, "one of the best Doms I ever met is in a wheelchair. There's something in each of us that says who we are in the pecking order of things, who we can trust. Those are the ones to whom we'll surrender. Sometimes things have built up in our lives, debris, trash in the moat. Until we get rid of that, wade through it, it's hard to figure out who we can trust to guard that fortress."
She looked down at the water, the way it swirled around her calves. There were little fish here as well as some larger ones. Trying to figure out what her legs were, they nibbled at her skin, a teasing contact. "Is this where you convince me physical pow
er isn't relevant to submission? To a vampire? Physical power is everything in my world."
"I'm not sure that's true. I expect you're not the most physically powerful in your territory. But you do a hell of a job either convincing them you are, or that they're all better off with you in charge. You just have to have enough physical power to make them put aside pride in favor of the overall benefit."
She really did wonder how Theodosius Vardalos knew all this about her. And about vampires. She should also find out why Garron accepted she was a vampire so matter-of-factly. These were all things a responsible overlord should do, to protect the vampire world as a whole. Do a threat assessment. But that wasn't why she was here. She didn't want that to intrude upon this.
"There's a reason it's called a power exchange, my lady," Garron said gently when she remained silent. "There's a reason a submissive can abhor the reality of rape, but long for the edge play of a forced seduction. In the room, you overpowered me physically. But what does your heart want, your mind want? Even if you're Hercules, there's always someone stronger physically out there. Correct?"
"Right." But she didn't lift her gaze to him.
He sighed. "Choice is the only true power that exists in a Dom/sub relationship, the guiding credo in everything we do. You suspend disbelief to enjoy a movie, cry over a book. We can get lost in our imaginings and empathy and find a power and magic in them that can strengthen us in our real lives in ways we can't envision. Even more than if we strangle back those imaginings."
"I don't have that choice. Haven't had that choice."
"You do here. Kaela." He reached out, brushed a fingertip along her jaw. "The trick is finding the mind or personality strong enough to hold us up when we need to let go."
"That doesn't exist in my world."
"But maybe it can exist here."
