Page 48 of Natural-Born Cullers

“Hello, Martin,” said Halliday, his look going down to his empty hands, then around the Masters and their concern. “I don’t suppose we could ask you to wait outside and allow us to talk to Gray in private?”

“No.” Martin took a sip of his water. “I don’t suppose you could.” He looked around the conference table. “No chairs for you or Jack, Welsh.” A look came Gray’s way. “Whohaveyou pissed off now, huh?”

Gray raised aquit itfinger in his direction as he went back over, and Martin smirked over his glass.

“Continue,” Martin said to Brennan. “But I’d really recommend a little summary here to help me catch up, considering I’m feeling a little sore as fuck this afternoon for some reason. I’m kind of not really in the mood, it seems.”

Tapping a fingernail on the table, Carr looked over. “Jack always has a place here, along with Gray, and I’m more than prepared to let Jack sit in on this meeting, but you? I don’t know you.”

“You say that like I should, what? Give a fuck?” Martin snorted as he briefly rubbed at his head. “I’m asking for manners, not for intel on whether you wear a camisole or go commando in bed, love.”

“Oh so not your love,” said Carr, holding his gaze.

Martin looked up at her. “But easily riled over being called it and forced to play out sexist stereotypes, right?” He tsked. “And you are also the first to, rather stupidly, step up and pick a fight with me. You’re not MI5 like Gray. Army maybe? More fight than intelligence sense, hmm?” A cold smile went her way, and when nothing but silence came from Carr, he glanced around. “Anyone else want to try and play secrets with me?”

More quiet, and Martin shook his head. “No takers? No manners? No one going to welcome me into your MC ranks or ask howthe fuckI know who you are?”

Brennan cocked a brow.

Martin waved him off, because that look seemed to have just given him all the confirmation he needed. “One—” He held up a finger, more flipped them the bird. “You’re content to allow both Gray and Jack into your conference room, who, consequently, both live for the whole twisted BDSM thing. Two—” He held up another finger, which came in the form of flipping them the V. “The good old Doc here, whose staff, no offence here, mate—” He glanced back at Halliday. “—really don’t know how to whisper between cleaning the bedsheets over how the MC funds your department.” He was back with Brennan. “Three—you. Sorry, you stick out like a sore dick, mate: I’ve seen you on TV, so I know you’re Met police. Which means we have MI5, Met police, psychiatry, not making it hard to jump into my army comment, with all of you surrounding BDSM talk.” He let his hand rest back by his side. “Now, bar from not knowing the whole secret cock shake needed to get in here, the relevance of all that is: it’s not really that fucking hard to make the leap from psychiatric unit, Gray and Jack, to how all of you, including Mistress Mouthpiece there—” He swept a hand at Carr. “—tieall that together, so to speak.”

Carr went to say something, but Martin was back with Halliday. “Mate, I swear to God that if you fuck here and dangle all your privileges from a bondage cage, I’ll take those therapy sessions of yours, no psych jacket and drugs needed to get me there.”

Halliday snorted a small smile. “Your head hurting, Martin? You keep rubbing at it. You’re also a little pale. Do you need something for your headache?”

“Someone to offer to cut through the bullshit would’ve been nice, don’t you think, Doc?” His look at Halliday was hard, but Martin broke it a moment later.

“Apologies,” Martin said eventually, all aggression dropped, “I’m just feeling a little Alec in Dungeon-land, all falling down the wrong glory hole and all that. So I’m just real curious as to why all that made our Jack cut ’n’ run, considering this is his life.” He looked at Gray briefly. “And his.” His smile faded. “So who the fuck disturbed them and woke me up? Contrary to the Doc’s disbelief, I actually do like a lie in without setting the asylum on fire first.”

“Disciplinary panel,” said Brennan, watching him.

“Seriously? Whose?” Martin cocked a brow. “His?” He thumbed over to Gray. “Why—?”

He fell quiet, all but for a moment, but he only needed a moment.

“Oh…. The whole banning of the Doc from the manor and Gray’s bastard-style play session with Jack and me without the Doc there to hold his leash. Not to mention him going full culler death gear and picking on the MC, scythe in hand, without him letting you knowing it was role-play night. Look, I swear he apologised for going Heretic’s Fork on my throat, and the rape and murder was, technically, only attempted.” Martin winced. “Although I’d argue dub-con there because, well, who doesn’t get hard over Gray distorting consent lines when he’s pissed off? It’s kind of sexy in anI need serious therapysense.But—” He put his hand on his heart. “I swear he’s all sweet…ish and shit with Jack around now.” A smile. “So as for you lot acting all butthurt over him sleeping with you as a culler? You’re still standing. Fucking Dom up and get over it.”

Mistress Lucy went to speak, but Brennan shook his head, just the once. “You want permission to stay? You shut up.”

“Fuck off. We both know you’re not about to let me loose around here with your trainee Doms and subs. I’m going nowhere.” Martin fell quiet and seemed to think something over as he scratched at his jaw. “But… just for curiosity’s sake, though. Whatdisciplinewe talking about here? Cock-and-ball torture with the red-head over there? Caning with the big dude?” He looked at Brennan. “The whip down Gray’s back, because, fuck me—if you have one spare, I’m all in as trainee Dom for a while. I’ll even throw in a free whip modification. Because, again, I’m guessing he’s the reason why I’m as sore as hell over here.”

“Any punishment here is done by trained and skilled hands, never yours,” Brennan said flatly.

Martin smirked over his glass at Gray. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

Gray snorted a smile and held Martin’s look long enough for Martin to chuckle softly and wave Gray off. “Another time, Gray. Another time.” Then he was back with Brennan. “Apologies.” He sounded sincere enough. “Continue, by all means. And don’t bother summarising now—I’ll work it out quicker on my own without you lot slowing things down. It’s a gift.”

Yeah, he was a bastard.

“I’m glad we have your permission.” Even though he’d never met Martin, Brennan would have gotten the memo years ago on not to engage, and he didn’t now. “Gray, with our previous discussion in mind over security before we were interrupted,” he said, “if you accept, you will retain your Master Dom title within the MC and all benefits that come with it, including access to the MC for training operatives from MI5. You’ll not be allowed to train Doms, but if Jack does ever show a wish to be here as a Master sub, you will be allowed to oversee his Dom training sessions. You will also retain the right to use the MC on a personal basis with Jack. Always. In fact, I recommend it.”

Gray gave a soft smile down to the floor. Yeah, they offered all this for Jack, for him. A way to ensure safe and sane play, to ensure the routine they both loved, despite Martin’s threat. And that… this was why he’d always protect them as a culler, agreement in place or not.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Your new consultancy position will also come with a high-tier pay scale to reflect your role.”

Martin lost his smile, and a frown came Gray’s way.

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