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The only thing he had to worry about right now was tonight. After much discussion, Ari and Kane had decided against a party with guests. It was one thing to make Saskia the kinky sexual centerpiece of a large crowd. She was used to it and got off on it. It was quite another to do it to Claire. Claire had a different history that didn't exactly lend itself to giant amounts of public sex.
Ari had reasoned that she'd been okay at the art show. But all eyes had not been on her. It was Kane of all people in the end who had suggested it should be a private affair with the four of them. If the man wasn't careful, people might think he had a heart in there.
But then even that had been compromised when Marcus had strongly vetoed the arrangement. He didn't want to be left out. While his thing with Kane and Saskia was a different thing than Ari's friendship with Kane and their commitment tomy slut is your slut, Marcus wanted to be included in something as important as a branding. He wanted to watch. Ari hadn't objected, and neither had Kane.
So it was to be the five of them. And somehow Ari felt as though he were involved in some weird initiation ritual. He really had always thought this thing with Kane was temporary. It had started as a joke, a lark.
But then the one-time ice breaker joke became a long-standing inside joke. And at some point, both of them had stopped laughing. At some point both of them had started to take having sexual access to whoever the other was with as some sort of fucked-up sacred right. And though Ari wasn't attracted to men and was sure he would never fuck Kane, he'd fuckedwithKane for years now.
The two of them had enjoyed many women together. And now both of them had a woman they wouldn't release even if she wanted out. That's how far both of them had lost their minds and moral reasoning faculties. Kane had his thing with Saskia. Ari had his thing with Claire. But there was also this potential for this other thing with all of them. And apparently Marcus watching—at least for tonight.
The doorbell rang. Ari went to the front door, nervous energy still buzzing off him. He pressed his thumb against the keypad, and the locks slid back. He opened the door and Kane, Saskia, and Marcus walked in. All of them were dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts, a high contrast from the last time he'd seen them.
“Is everything ready?” Kane asked.
“It's all set up in the dungeon. The branding irons are heating. Once it reaches the right temperature, it should hold steady, but there's a digital read-out to be sure.”
“Where's Claire?” Kane asked.
“She's in my room.”
“Does she understand what tonight is about? Is she all right?”
Ari wasn't entirely sure what the answer to either of those questions was.
“I could talk to her,” Saskia offered.
Ari nodded. That seemed like a good idea.
Claire paced backand forth in front of the fireplace in Ari's room. Every few minutes she looked up at the painting Kane had done of her as if looking at that painting was going to make any of this better. Ari had explained things carefully and patiently to her. She was Ari's, but sometimes he wanted to share her with Kane. And sometimes he wanted her to play with Saskia.
How was she supposed to respond to that? Anything but “Yes, Master” would displease him. But didn't “Yes, Master” make her the biggest slut in the world? Especially since it was no tormented hardship to say yes to that.
Her fantasies had somehow become real and the real version was even better than all the things she'd imagined. So when would she wake up? When would something terrible happen to break it all apart? She felt like something horrible loomed just ahead to mess everything up. She'd been convinced for years that happiness just wasn't a thing that she'd been allotted in life. Happiness was for other people.
She jumped at the knock on the door.
“Hey, it's Saskia. Can I come in?”
She let out the breath she found herself holding. “Of course.”
The door opened and the dark-haired artist walked in, except she sort of glided when she moved. Even in jeans, a T-shirt, and wedge sandals, there was something unbearably sophisticated about her. Maybe it was her long exposure to an artist like Quill.
She smiled as she looked around. “I've always loved this room.” Then she spotted the painting over the fireplace. “Oh! He painted you. Did you get the full artist-process treatment?”
Claire felt herself blush.
Saskia laughed. “That's a yes. Quill is... intense.”
“You call him Quill?”
“No, I call him Master, or it's my ass,” Saskia said with a wink. “But yeah, I think of him that way. And he told me you knew about the art thing, so I can say it in front of you. Are you okay? About what's happening tonight?”
“Are you?” Claire asked.
Saskia smiled. It was an easy smile. A conspiratorial smile. Claire hadn't really gotten to talk to Saskia at her art show, but she already liked this woman. “Yes. I'm good with it. Excited. I think this will be good.”
“What about the branding part?” Claire asked, holding back the shudder. Ari had explained it all to her and had reassured her it wasn't the horror show she imagined, but that was easy for him to say. He wasn't the one getting branded.
