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"She's been going home with them, so it hasn't been an issue up until now. I don't know if Braun will have thought to leave the door open or hidden a key for her somewhere—I'm not entirely sure what their arrangement is. To be fair, Archie's only been there a few days; I don't think they have a routine set yet." She studied him curiously. "I'm sure Braun won't mind if you want to take Archie to bed, Jasper."
That was true. Braun's temper rarely flared unless his sub was in danger. The Irishman was surprisingly even-tempered considering the blood of the Irish ran his veins. His friend wouldn't begrudge Jasper taking Anarchy to the house and settling her into bed; it was part of his duty to keep her happy and healthy. But Jasper didn't want to intrude if Boadicea wasn't feeling well. That sweet young sub of Braun's rarely complained about her health or pain levels, even if she was a bit of a brat in other areas.
Hell, she'd gone through intense physical therapy like a warrior, charging through the pain and frustration with blinkered determination. It hadn't restored the full use of her leg, not enough to let her dance again, but she'd proven her inner strength to anyone who doubted it.
"Did Bodie tell Braun she didn't feel well, or did he guess?"
Connie's eyes shadowed with concern. "She hasn't been herself for a while. Hidden it pretty well from most, but not from me and certainly not from her Master. Braun intended to call her out on it, but she caved tonight of her own volition and confessed she was sick."
Yeah, if Bodie was feeling that sick and sorry for herself, he wasn't going to go tromping through their house at this time of night. One of Braun's best qualities was his protective instincts; illness would have him on high alert. Which meant he'd have Bodie tucked up in bed, hydrated, and monitored while she slept.
"Anarchy's coming home with me," he stated bluntly, ignoring Atticus's dramatic pounding of his heart. "Don't be a dick, Atticus. Braun doesn't need the added stress of another submissive under his roof when his own is sick. Anarchy had a rough scene. She handled it well, but I'd like to make sure she doesn't wake alone if she needs tending to. So unless one of you two are volunteering to take her for the night, or objecting to me taking her, she'll be in my bed tonight."
Atticus scowled and opened his mouth, only for Connie to lean over and slap her hand over it.
"Seeing as you've both staked your claim on each other tonight, I don't see any harm in you taking her. You're both adults and of sound mind to consent." Connie shushed Atticus as he mumbled something behind her hand. "She's not the little girl you wish she could be, Att. She's a masochist."
Something flickered in Atticus's green eyes. Lifting his big hand, he peeled Connie's away from his mouth and set it in her lap. "I know how she's wired, Con." That dark, junglelike stare pinned Jasper. "You need to remember she's special, J. She's not a traumatized, abused young woman like Bodie; she's innocent and that goddamn heart of hers is wide open. Masochist or not, some kinds of pain are too much even for the likes of her."
Well, that was a definite warning. Not wanting to cause a rift between them, Jasper inclined his head at his friend. A verbal answer would only lead to more dialogue, and he sensed one wrong word would blow a chasm in the ground between him and his best friend. Instead, he looked at Connie. "I'll need her clothes. It's too cold outside to take her like this, blanket or not."
"I think Anarchy stripped in the locker room and stored her clothes in one of the lockers. She came onto the stage naked when Atticus called her up." Connie glanced at the big master and rolled her eyes at his sullen expression. "Cheer up, big guy. We'll find you a little girl who loves being coddled and being taken care of."
Jasper braced as Atticus's hands clenched into enormous fists probably capable of smashing through a concrete wall. Hulk, thy name is Atticus. Connie didn't seem concerned, she just battered her eyelashes at the grumpy bastard and made kissing noises until his lips twitched into a reluctant smile.
"Goddamn it, Con. If you weren't a Domme, you'd be such a brat."
"You know, I do believe I would make a fabulous brat." The Mistress ran her hand over Atticus's shoulder. There was nothing but friendship in the gesture, but Jasper liked the sweetness of it. It spoke volumes about the connection between them—more like big brother and annoying little sister than anything romantic. "Throw in bratty Bodie and the prankster Anarchy thinks she is, and we would be a tempting trio in the Doms' den."
Shaking his head, Atticus stood up and stretched. "You'd be the bane of the Doms, Connie. Topping from the bottom, no doubt. Running wild with trouble one and trouble two. Braun would need every Dom in here to keep you all in check."
Connie huffed. "Please. Braun, Jasper, and you would keep us under control with a word and you know it."
"I do indeed but thank you for acknowledging it." Laughing, he glanced at Jasper, his gaze softening as it lowered to stroke over Anarchy. "Don't disturb her while she's sleeping. I'll go find her clothes so you can get her home. Liam's finishing up on bar duty, so I imagine he'll kick us all out in short order. He was muttering something about an early liquor delivery in the morning."
Jasper tightened his arms around Anarchy, watching the bruiser of a Dom walk over toward the main doors then turn down the corridor leading to the locker rooms. Another improvement Braun had made to the club, modernizing the locker system and changing areas. When his friend disappeared from view, Jasper stared at Connie. "Is this going to fuck me and him up, Con? Is Anarchy always going to be a bone of contention between us?"
"Do you want her to be?"
"What? Of course not," he scoffed in shock. "Who wants to decide which people he keeps in his life? If I have to choose between my best friend and my submissive..." Shit, it sounded really bad when he vocalized it aloud. Wasn't there a saying about bros and hoes? "That isn't a position I want to be in, and I sure as hell aren't going to put Atticus and Anarchy in it either."
Connie tapped a finger against her lips as she studied him. "You've changed in the time you've been away, Jasper. For the better, I think. But whatever was eating at you hasn't been purged, hasn't been dealt with appropriately. You've dug a shitty little hole, dumped the whole sordid mess into the pit, and tried to cover it up by kicking some dirt on top. That's not going to hold for long."
He scowled. "It'll hold as long as I need it to."
"You think? You're really willing to gamble on that—not just on your safety, but hers?" Connie flicked a finger at Anarchy's sleeping form and then resumed tapping. "Are you prepared to take responsibility for that shit to crawl out of its shallow grave while you're whipping the girl? Fucking her? How much damage do you think a man like you can wreak on a tiny little thing like her if you lose control?"
Too much. He might not be as big and bulky as Atticus, didn't have the same brute strength as Braun, but if his brain took a vacation, he could very well do irreparable harm to his sub. "Is that a warning to stay away from her, Connie?"
Her smile was slow and pleased. "On the contrary. She's quite possibly the best thing that's ever happened to you. But you're going to have to work to keep her, Jasper. No matter how strong her feelings toward you are, there are things you can do to make sure you're the best man in her life."
His gut twisted and he shuddered. "I'm not having therapy, Con. There's too much shit in my head."
"You know, someone else said that to me not so long ago. A defiant confession from a brave submissive who believed she could deal with all that shit in her head by herself. It took maybe two sessions with me for her to realize that the weight she was carrying around with her all the time could be lessened if she just spoke the words. In private, with no fear of judgement."
Jasper recoiled from the idea. Atticus wasn't the only Dom in Avalon who thought of Connie like a sister—she was a bright, inquisitive, intelligent female who didn't know when to let go of a bone when she thought it was juicy. He supposed her profession gave her an edge of hardness, hard-earned no doubt, designed to protect her from the shit she listened to every day and had to process in order to help her patients deal with their troubles.
Explaining his past would be akin to traversing a minefield where one step could blow him sky high in an instant, and another could suck him down into a deep, dark pit where the monsters in his life thrived. He wasn't prepared to take Connie on either journey to hell.
