Page 1 of Whispers In Wonderland

CHAPTER ONE

DEREK

Anticipation coils tight within my chest—the real reason for this trip lies heavy on my shoulders as I guide Jordan up the steps of a discreet New York mansion, her barely there catsuit hidden under a black leather trench coat protecting her from the brisk night wind. My lifestyle isn’t a secret among my security team fanned around us, but they don’t need to be distracted by my sub’s delectable naked ass. Their less-than-subtle presence grates on my nerves as I glance around the secluded grounds.

So much for discreet. We’re a damn sideshow and a hell of a big, noisy target if anyone is lurking in the darkness.

At the top of the stairs, I slide my required mask on. The demon countenance is much closer to my mood, and my past, more than the Italian loafers on my feet, which match the disguise I wear every day while playing corporate mogul.

A quick glance at Jordan confirms only her expressive chocolate eyes and full red lips are visible under her feline fetish mask.

“You are to whisper at all times,” I order, issuing her punishment for being mouthy during our last session. Her chin dips in acknowledgment as I continue. “Are you ready, Kitten?”

A soft purr rumbles out as she nods once, her excitement visible.

She loves to explore new clubs.

I switch my attention to the doorman and recite the line, “We’ve been summoned by wild whispers into the heart of darkness.”

Aisling’s certainly upped the drama on the pass phrases since Cillian took the place over. For an enigmatic mafia Don, Cill’s wife has changed his world without softening his edge at all.

“Bienvenue au Club du Pays des Merveilles, Sir. Welcome to Club Wonderland,” the masked butler replies as he sweeps open the massive double doors with white-gloved hands.

We step into a grand foyer, immediately joined by Shadow and Eclipse, who arrived early to coordinate with Cillian’s own security team.

Instantly, Sam reads my body language and reports. “Good evening, Demon. Checks are complete. You and your kitten are free to roam.”

“Excellent. You and the team can relax in the bar.”

“But…” the man who’s had my six in nearly every situation imaginable protests, clearly uneasy.

“I’ll be fine,” I say firmly.

“Undoubtedly. But surely, you’d like to protect your pussy... cat, in case you’re called away.”

“This place is probably better locked down than Fort Knox.” I throw him a bone though; he didn’t travel across the country to sit in a bar. “But shadows are inescapable.”

His lips quirk and he turns away to give directions, and I sink into the role I’m here to play.

The dim lighting from the chandeliers above cast shadows in the massive foyer concealing just as much as they reveal. It also adds to the effect of my costume, designed to drive Jordan to distraction.

I turn toward her, and drink in her expression as she takes in my appearance. The tailored fit of my black shirt clings to my torso, the fabric rich and smooth against my skin. My trousers are equally dark, tailored to accentuate the strength of my military-honed legs.

A hint of silver at my cuffs and the buckle of my belt gleams like a predator’s teeth in the low light. But it's the mask that completes the image of tonight’s adventure; a demon forged from onyx and midnight fantasies. It hugs the contours of my face, concealing the piercing blue of my eyes behind slits that promise sin and secrets. It feels like a second skin—a persona worn not only to shield my identity but also to free me from the shackles of my public life. Here, I’m not Derek Ingram, tech mogul. Here, I my role is power incarnate, my every desire a command waiting to be obeyed.

My hands settle on her shoulders. “Give me your coat, Kitten. It’s time to play.”

As her coat slides away, Jordan’s presence beside me is electric, her own mask a siren’s call to those who dare to look upon her. Feline and fierce, she embodies the jungle cat persona with effortless grace. Her outfit is a whisper of silk and leather, hugging her curves with a daring that leaves little to the imagination.

Stripes of amber and black dance across her body, a pattern that speaks of wildness and an untamed heart. Her eyes, the color of honeyed whiskey, glint through the openings in her mask. They hold a heat that mirrors the pulse of excitement in my veins.

“Are you ready?” I ask, my voice a low rumble that vibrates between us.

Her lips curve into a smile, promising adventures yet to come.

“Always,” she purrs back, a playful edge lacing her words.

I hand her coat to the doorman, and turn towards the main doors, that Shadow opens. The sounds of the jungle surround us, a symphony of distant drums, rustling leaves, and the occasional, carefully orchestrated growl. Club Wonderland’s transformation is complete, lush greenery cascades down from above, exotic flowers bloom with intoxicating scents, and hidden paths beckon towards secret pleasures.

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