Page 8 of Whispers In Wonderland

“There are some kinds of play, like blood or electricity I only indulge in within the comfort of my home club and partners who know me very well,” I admit, a shiver running down my spine from just the thought of being that vulnerable in a strange environment. “For tonight, I’m looking for simple pleasure for us all.”

“Which fantasies do you wish to chase tonight?” Zuzu rumbles, sliding closer to Sasha, leaning into our little group.

“Sensation and power are my favorites.” I slide my fingers down Sasha’s arm with a barely there caress. “What are your favorites, beautiful?”

“Service and bondage,” she says softly as her skin pebbles with awareness under my touch.

“Those blend well with teasing the senses,” I say, plans already dancing through my mind.

“Are we agreed, then?” I ask, my heart racing with anticipation.

“Agreed,” they respond in unison.

“Then all we need is a safeword,” I conclude, my pulse thrumming in my veins as we solidify our plans.

“Tarzan,” Sasha says and Zuzu chuckles.

“I like that one,” I say, and stand. “Let’s find someplace suitable for our adventure.”

I look around the lush landscape and spot Shadow a discrete distance away, watchful and tense. The man’s always tense, but he seems more guarded than usual.

Does he wish more of the team were on guard instead of in the bar? What’s going on with that business associate?

The heat of the fire warms my back and the air around us thrums with the promise of what’s to come. I hope my Demon comes to play soon; he’s going to enjoy our new playmates.

CHAPTER FIVE

DEREK

The leather chair beneath me creaks as I lean forward, my fingers steepled in contemplation. Cillian’s words resonate within the confines of my mind—a tempest threatening to unravel the very fabric of my world. Of my family’s world.

Zachary. Ashton. I cannot let that happen.

“Lucian won’t stop,” I murmur, the weight of my half-brother’s shadow lingering like a persistent fog. “But neither will I.”

Determination hardens within me, a steel spine forged in the fires of necessity. To protect those I care about, to shield the happiness they’ve finally found—is the oath I’ve silently sworn.

“Taking on Lucian… it’s not just a business maneuver, Derek. It’s chess with the devil,” Cillian muses, his gaze sharp. His hard voice draws me out of my thoughts and back to the present. The steel underpinning his tone, is harder than the world where I’ve spent my days lately.

“Chess with the devil,” I let the metaphor roll off my tongue, tasting its bitter truth. “And you’re offering to be my ally through this infernal game?”

“More than that,” he replies, the depth of his voice wrapping around the dimly lit office. “I’ll be your confidant, your strategist, your mentor. But remember, every move must be precise, calculated.”

“Like waiting for the perfect shot,” I add, feeling the alignment between my sniper training and the underworld’s dark dance.

“Exactly.” He nods, a ghost of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. “And what about Jordan? This path… it’s fraught with peril.”

“Jordan’s a fun companion,” I say carefully, the thought of her warmth, her unwavering need to explore, and her playful nature warming my chest. “It’s Zachary who’s in the most danger. He’s just found happiness with Ashton. She’s the queen of his heart. But if she lost him… when she’s just found herself… it would kill her.”

His head tilts as he tries to make sense of my rambling. “What’s your relationship to the redhead your brother is posing for the cameras with? It’s not like him to feed the gossip mill.”

“Ashton is Zachary’s sub. He’s claiming her in every way possible. He’ll fade back into shadow soon. She doesn’t like cameras.” His furrowed brow reveals his intolerance of half-truths. “She needed help not long after they discharged me. Helping her helped me back into the civilian world. She’s family and has been long before she held Zachary’s heart.”

“I understand the urge to lay claim. But it’s not a smart move. One woman pulls the strings on you both. The need to protect can be your anchor, but take care that your connection to them doesn’t become a blind spot,” Cillian advises, his eyes reflecting a history of battles untold. “Love can either fortify your spirit or fracture it.”

His words wind through my psyche. They’re more than advice; they’re a creed for the war ahead—a war I must wage with both cunning and care.

“Remember, in this world…” Cillian continues, standing up and smoothing the lines of his jacket, “… it’s not just about holding power. It’s about wielding it with an artistry that leaves no trace, only results.”

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