Page 4 of Echoes of Fear

“Because it’s not our right,” I hear Steel say, gently rubbing the back of my neck. “We’re his guardian Doms until there comes a time when he no longer needs us to be.”

As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. My mind clears, and I look up at Steel and Blaze.

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I might take some Melatonin and sleep while they’re here.”

“I have a better idea,” Ghost says. “You’ve told me before that you don’t want to be in a place where you feel trapped, right? You feel like you always need a way of escaping?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, ashamed of my new disability.

“How about you spend the evening in the office,” he suggests. “It has a comfortable place to relax, a large screen TV, and soundproofed walls.”

“Plus, the window you could escape from if you really needed to,” Maddy adds. “And Sophie and I could hang out with you if you want.”

“It’s on the first floor, and we could make sure no one has access to this part of the building. What do you say, kid?”

Pops reached his hand down to help me get off the floor, which I didn’t realize I was on. Gripping the man’s hand, he lifts me with a strength I didn’t know he possessed.

“I think it’s a good idea,” I smile. “I’m so sorry, everyone. I’m embarrassed that I had that little meltdown in front of you all.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Pops smiles. “We’ve all seen far worse.”

“Yeah, like the time Miles took over my body and tried to seduce my own brother,” Venom cringes, causing us all to laugh.

I remember that day fondly. Venom has Dissociate Identity Disorder, and Miles is one of his alters. He’s also gay and has a hard-on for Ghost, which happens to be Venom’s older brother. Miles had flirted with him for hours. And it wasn’t those subtle types of flirts, either. Miles was hands-on and very descriptive about what he wanted to happen.

We all know that Miles would never actually act on his flirtatious offerings, but he loves giving Venom a hard time.

“What’s this meeting about, anyway?” I ask as I head to help Maddy with the burgers.

My heart is still racing at the thought of so many new people being in my safe place that it’s hard to focus, but I need to try. I also need to remember that this is the Obsidian MC clubhouse. This building is meant for things like this.

“It’s actually for a buddy of ours,” Blaze says. “He’s our head of security at Oasis. He and his club are moving into town, and we need to work out some territorial kinks beforehand.”

Obsidian Oasis is a BDSM club that Blaze and Steel started years back. They’re very strict about their membership policy, which is why I was never allowed to join.

My chest aches at the memories trying to drag me down. If they had just let me join the Little’s part of their club, I might never have met Nick, and none of what happened last year would have happened.

They didn’t think the “club lifestyle” was my cup of tea. Which it’s not, but I only wanted to be part of the Little’s section. Apparently, that could only happen if you were a Little with a Caregiver.

Which I was not.

They’ve changed their policy in that aspect after learning why I was going to other BDSM clubs with the hope of finding one tofit in. I guess the girls, Maddy, Sophie, and Bitsy, went off on the twins, telling them that it was their fault I got hurt.

I don’t blame the guys. I understood their reason for not letting me join their club, even if I thought it silly.

“Do I need to buckle down on security for the night?” I ask. “Being in the office might be the best option anyway because most of my equipment is there.”

Ignoring my fear of leaving this building, it’s my actual job to handle security for our club and some other government officials. While I may not fit the stereotype of a seasoned biker with a body that’s far from as bulky as a male can get, I sure as hell can kill a person with some properly placed ones and zeros.

“As a precaution, go ahead and double-check the security feeds in and around the building,” Ghost says. “But I don’t think we’ll have any issues with Taylor or his club.”

“What type of club is it?” I ask, mentally reviewing my checklist of tasks I’ll need to complete before they arrive.

“They’re a small motorcycle club much like ours,” Blaze answers. “There are only seven members.”

“You said one of them works as a bodyguard at your club? I think I’m going to go and run a check on them. Do we have names?”

My mind seems to race while I categorize file after file as new information enters my brain. I’m a mess on the outside, but my mind is an organized library. My grandma once thought I had Hyperthymesia, a condition where you recall everything you’ve ever read, seen, or heard. But it just turns out that I have an amazing ability to recall a lot of information that I’ve learned.

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