Page 8 of Redemption's Inferno

“She’s done something,” Warren said abruptly. “I don’t know what it is, but I would venture a guess it’s something criminal. She’s both afraid and anxious to go to prison—pay for whatever she’s done. I need you to not only go get her, but get her to tell you what it is so that I can make it go away. Do you understand me, boy?”

Chains nodded but his brows drew together in a deep frown. “What do you think she’s done?”

He shook his head. “Undoubtedly something with that Therese troublemaker. Good riddance to bad rubbish—almost took her out myself when I found out what she’d been doing to Em…wish she’d come to me.”

“Em seems to feel she has to take care of everything herself,” Chains murmured. “She’s like that at the club, too—always unpacking a box or double-checking that the alarm is set…like she has to be in control at all times.”

“You have no idea,” Warren said dryly.

Chains arched his brows. “I thought you’d never touched her?”

“Haven’t. But I introduced her to this world and I was there for her training because I had to be sure she wasn’t just taught properly, but also that no one ever hurt her. So I’ve seen her do things you’ve likely not seen from her.”

Chains sighed. “Then what? You want me to find her and make her submit until she tells me her secrets?” His lips twitched as he tried to hide his smile.

Warren rolled his eyes. “As if she would submit to the likes of you! Have you seen Emilie work?”

Chains shrugged. “Not like that, no. She’s my boss at the club, but not anyone’s mistress, and now that she and Viggo are divorced she’s been reclusive, only coming out of her office when there’s a problem.”

“She’s changed, for sure. That’s why I need your help.”

“I’ll try to sort it out but I can’t promise—”

“I already know where she is, lad.” Warren stood. “I need you to take her out of there and find out what she’s hiding. Can you do that for a sick old friend?”

Chains rose as well, his eyes meeting the elder man’s curiously. “Already said I would. But if you’re thinking that something is going to come of this—”

“Bloody hell, just do as I’ve asked, yeah? I seem to recall a favor you owe me and I’m cashing it in.”

Chains looked at him in surprise. “You’re using a life-saving favor for me to have a conversation with a woman I already know and like?”

“My days are numbered, Darryl.” Warren knew Chains would understand the severity of the situation by using his given name. “She means a lot to me and whatever’s going on, well, it’s gone on long enough. Not to mention what’s happening right now.”

“What’s happening right now?!” Chains demanded, an uncomfortable feeling spreading through him.

“She wanted humiliation and surrender—begged me to allow it—so I arranged it. But the time has come for it to stop.” He handed him a piece of paper. “This is the address. The password to get in is flogger.”

“Dammit, Warren, you know she’s not herself right now! I know this place, this is Cuddy’s!” Chains stared at the paper in annoyance.

“She asked me to do this for her and Cuddy knows if he harms her in any way beyond what we discussed, I’ll end him.”

Chains growled. “Dammit, Warren! How could you allow this?!” He stalked out of the house in a huff. God only knew what he was going to discover when he found Emilie, but there was no way in hell he was leaving her there for another minute. What the hell had Warren been thinking?

* * *

Chains was in a bad mood by the time he got to Cuddy’s Kensington home. Floyd “Cuddy” Cudburton was an asshole—there was no doubt about that. He was known for being hardcore—he bent the rules in the BDSM world and had been banned from quite a few clubs. Chains hadn’t kept up with him in the last year or two, but he knew how cruel he could be and had warned many a woman away from him. Chains enjoyed a little BDSM, but it wasn’t a 24/7 lifestyle for him, and he liked being able to switch things up when it came to sex. Though he rarely dated a woman for more than a month or two, he’d had several lovers over the years he’d kept in his bed for an extended period of time and they’d always enjoyed sex in a variety of ways. Despite his aversion to serious relationships, he liked being able to connect with a woman without having her submit to his every whim; sometimes it was fun to let a woman take charge. He also enjoyed romance and tenderness, the kind of lovemaking filled with gentle kisses and slow, gradual passion arising from a genuine fondness for each other. He’d been surprised to discover you didn’t have to be in love to make love, and though he’d been careful with the women he did that with, sometimes it felt good to show a woman he cared. The rest of the time, he was content to be as dominant and alpha as he desired—and the women he slept with liked it too.

Cuddy had probably never made love to a woman in his life, and his tactics as a dom were borderline abusive. He didn’t bother with aftercare, didn’t care whether or not his submissives trusted him, and often forced them beyond their limits. Though no one had ever accused him of actually hurting them in ways they couldn’t get past, many had refused to see him again. Chains didn’t like a man who abused his power—neither as a man nor as a dom—and the thought of Emilie enduring whatever Cuddy dished out already had his stomach in knots. Humiliation was Cuddy’s thing, and though there were subs and slaves that enjoyed it, Chains knew deep down Emilie would not. Whatever she was going through was tearing her apart, and he was going to get her out of there, no matter what she said she wanted.

The man at the door eyed Chains warily. “Password?” he asked.

“Flogger,” Chains met the man’s gaze directly.

“Second floor,” was all the man said.

Chains stepped inside and could hear loud music and laughter coming from above as he headed up the stairs. The place was packed and he could barely get through the mass of people when he got to the landing. Pushing his way past the initial crowd, he was assaulted by the smell of sweat, sex and stale beer. He could hear a group chanting, “More, more, more!” and he headed towards the noise. Instinct told him that was where he’d find Emilie.

As he approached the crowd, he forced himself to school his features and remember Emilie had done this of her own volition. Even if he didn’t agree with her, she was experienced in the BDSM world and a competent, willing adult. He couldn’t lose his temper, even though the sight before him made him furious. Almost nothing bothered him when it came to sex—as long as participants were consenting adults—but breath play was so fucking controversial. Even the most experienced lifelong participants in BDSM tended to avoid it. Breath play essentially decreased blood flow to the brain by constricting the airway. The results were often exhilaration, becoming lightheaded and, from what he’d read, a giddiness that could enhance simultaneous sexual activity. He could see this was what Cuddy intended to do and Chains clenched his fists at his side.

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