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Thane didn't know whether to be concerned or amused as Connie sniffed and picked the paper up, unfolding it with a sneer of disdain. The note fluttered in her shaking hands as color leeched from her face, then erupted in her cheeks as she crunched it into a ball and threw it at Liam's head. With, Thane noticed, excellent aim.
She slammed her palms down on the polished wood and leaned over the bar. “Tell his lordship to go screw himself, Liam. This stupid game he's playing is over. I'm done.” Shoving away from the bar, she turned to Thane, her mouth open to speak.
Thane didn't have time to warn her before the beast stepped up behind her—seemingly from nowhere, quiet as a shadow—and powerful fingers clamped down on her nape. Connie's furious expression deflated instantly, taking on a mask of submission that confirmed Thane's suspicions.
Connie Monroe was a Switch.
“Gave you fair warning, sweetheart.” Hard green eyes met Thane's over the top of Connie's head, sparking with recognition and something that might have been speculation. There was a sharp brain behind those eyes, and it was working on overtime. “Maybe you should introduce me to your friend, Constance. I didn't catch his name last week.”
Shit, had the guy picked up on Thane's interest in Connie? By the look in those displeased eyes, Atticus had his own theory on why Thane had been loitering in the walkway, and it wasn't far from the truth. Hoping to beat him to the literal punch, Thane thrust his hand out with a brief smile. “Thane Isaacson. We haven't been introduced, but I'm guessing you're Atticus. I've heard a lot about you.”
Unsurprisingly, his hand wasn't shaken. He withdrew it after a few moments, understanding he'd landed smack in the middle of the massive Master's radar. He could almost feel the luminous red dot of a sniper's gun making little circles in the middle of his forehead.
“Are you a watcher, Thane?”
***
Chapter Four
Connie jerked in Atticus's hold, trying to twist her head to glare at her captor, but he kept her still. Kept her looking at the stranger sitting on the stool in front of her, his lips half-frozen in an awkward smile. Jesus, could this be any more embarrassing?
She didn't know him, couldn't remember seeing him in Avalon before, but then her attention span of late had been sporadic. He was…unusual, she thought as his amber eyes met hers as if to say, How do I answer that?Beautiful amber eyes with little dark flecks scattered through the irises.
He had a rugged face, weathered and wise, with some interesting lines here and there. Laugh lines, smile lines, and more than a few worry lines scored his features, but it was a friendly face. He looked like a man who enjoyed life despite having a monumental obstacle or two tossed in his path. He wore a week’s worth of silver-streaked stubble, but his hair was dark, glinting with matching silver highlights at the temples.
Shaggy, not long. Thane had the kind of hair she loved to fist in both hands while she guided an eager mouth to her pussy. Somehow, it was easy to envision him on his knees with his broad shoulders pushing her thighs open, running his tongue along her slit…which was ridiculous considering he wasn't pumping out submissive vibes.
“Not by trade,” Thane answered Atticus with a curious frown. “Aren't we all watchers by nature?”
Atticus's laugh was dark. “I suppose we are.” His lips touched Connie's ear as he murmured, “This would make an exceptional punishment, would it not? We had an agreement, little sub, which you've blatantly reneged on tonight. You got my note?”
Digging deep, she pulled the Domme around her like a shield. They were in public, for fuck's sake, and her reputation was standing on shaky ground. If she said the wrong thing, would he castigate her here? She nodded once, swallowing as Thane pulled his bottom lip through his teeth.
“I'm giving you two options, Constance. Go to the room, strip, bend over the foot of the bed, and wait for me.” He nipped at her lobe, sharply enough to make her gasp silently. “Or ask your new friend here to bear witness to me sliding a nice, thick plug up your ass.”
The Domme threw up her hands in frustration, lecturing Connie with an acid-tipped tongue on how she'd made this goddamn bed and now she'd have to be tied to it, because Dominant Connie was severely outgunned.
“I said—” she hissed.
“You forfeited,” Atticus interrupted. “Choose.”
Oh, she'd go to the room, she thought with a touch of venom. She would go to the damn room, but she wasn't going to strip for him. Oh no, she was going to find the biggest paddle in there and beat him to within an inch of his life for putting her in this position.
Or you could just walk away, a little voice suggested. Walk away, out of the club, and drive home. Spend a pleasant evening listening to suicide songs bouncing off the walls. It's easy enough to do if you want it, but you don't. You crave the connection of submission, you want the tranquilityof handing over the responsibility of thinking. That's okay. It's okay to want to submit, you know that.
Connie batted the irritating know-it-all aside. The grip of Atticus's fingers on her neck was urging her to surrender. He wasn't rough, wasn't exerting bruising pressure, but his message was crystal clear—he was the Dom, he was in charge, and she would do his bidding whether she believed she wanted to or not.
“It was nice meeting you, Thane. If you'll excuse me, I…I…” Shit, what could she say? Excuse me, I have to go let this big bastard standing behind me strip me naked down to the soul so he can see what makes me tick?
Knowledge sparked in that amber gaze, and Connie got a feeling the newcomer had summed her up already, quite accurately. He glanced at Atticus, back at her, and inclined his head. His lips curved into a smile that lit up his whole face. “You go do what you have to do,” Thane told her. “I understand.”
Atticus released her. As she walked away quickly, she glanced back to see him leaning an elbow on the bar, apparently diving into a conversation with Thane. A serious conversation, she thought as Thane's brows drew together. She hoped to God, Atticus didn't grill the poor guy.
*
“You were listening to my conversation with Saul last Friday, weren't you?”
Thane cast aside his urge to lower his eyes, straightening his shoulders instead. “I may have overheard some of it, yes. None of which have I repeated in or out of the club. None of my business, after all.”
