Page 18 of Master

LIAM

Knowing exactly where I was going after the hospital last night, it was reckless to leave Sasha with my business card. Yet, I couldn’t help myself. Part of me hoped she would reach out so I knew she was okay. I never expected that she would show up at the club this morning, but I can’t deny that I am happy to see her.

“My brothers and I will ensure you are taken care of.” I reinforce the sincerity of what Layla and I are offering.

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes. We do. While what happened to you could’ve happened anywhere—especially withhim—it happened here. At Triskelion. We work really hard to ensure that men like Isaac don’t have access to our club.”

“I’m glad he did,” Sasha softly confesses as she stares at me.

So am I.In ways that I can’t quite put my finger on.

Looking down at her, I’m pleased to find her chestnut eyes are a bit more lively this morning. Even with the left one beingsurrounded by the crimson pool of a blown blood vessel, they harbor less anguish than they did last night. The mar in her eye—an unfortunate effect of asphyxiation—should heal within a week or two.

“If we had been at home, I wouldn’t be here right now. It’s actually why I’m here. Why I came to the club…” She fidgets uncomfortably as her gaze falls to the floor. “It doesn’t seem like enough, but I wanted to say thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart.” I insist.

“I do.” She sniffles, still staring down at our feet. She begins to ramble with her soft voice just barely above a whisper. “There were dozens of people in that hallway, but you were the only one who helped me. You stayed with me. How unbelievably kind you have been to me… And Isaac… All of what you did and… You really didn’t have to.”

“Yes. I did,” I confide. Sliding my hand over her shoulder, I fight the urge to pull her into me.There is something about her.I want to wrap my arms around her—the need pulls at me like a compulsion—so I can protect her and give her what I know she so desperately needs.

“Why?” Her voice cracks, and her thoughts of unworthiness cut at my heart. No one deserves what she went through.

“I couldn’t leave you like that.” I should stop, and I shouldn’t say any more, but the words continue to fall from my mouth. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself knowing he ever had the opportunity to treat you—oranyone—like that ever again.”

She shifts her weight, and her hands fidget at her thighs, struggling to find the confidence to say the words resting onthe tip of her tongue. With a soft, timid tone, she asks, “Did he suffer?”

“Yes.” I tenderly place the knuckle of my forefinger under her chin and pull her gaze up to me. “Does that upset you?”

“It should…” Sasha struggles to hold my gaze, pushing her chin against my finger to drop her face toward the floor. “I’m more upset that I thought he actually loved me. And hurt learning how little he cared about me.”

Sitting in the empty club, Sasha and I talk for a couple of hours. The two of us quickly grow comfortable with each other, and our conversation centers on the club. “How long have you been in the lifestyle?” I ask.

“About eight years,” she responds.She was still a fucking baby.“I grew up surrounded by very powerful men who pretty much always got what they wanted. For one of my brother’s friends, that was me. He was my first Dom, and he taught me my role as a submissive.”

“Do you enjoy submitting?”

“With him, I did.” She glances at me before returning her stare to the cup of coffee between her hands on the table. Even with her face angled down, I can see a slight blush creeping over her cheeks as she continues, “He was rough and demanding, but not like the men after him. But I know they had to be because they were trying to teach me, and I couldn’t learn otherwise.”

“No, sweetheart.” I wrap my hand over hers, shaking my head. “There is correction, and there is abuse. One stems from wanting to feel powerful. The other comes from a place of devotion and wanting a submissive to flourish.”

I fucking hate how some of these men use the lifestyle as an excuse to do whatever they want.

“As a sadist, I enjoy watching my subs take my pain, but there are limits. You would learn that as my submissive.”

My submissive?

With her long ash-brown hair, curvy figure, and angelic round face, it’s impossible to deny how beautiful she is. Or how attracted to her I am. She is easily more stunning than the women I’ve been with recently, but she’s also not my usual type.

Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ve had a long string of alpha-subs. Women who are strong and independent but enjoy giving over their full submission to me for a few months. Long enough to enjoy the dynamic, but short enough that I don’t become too emotionally attached to them. Sasha is far too inexperienced in a proper D/s relationship to only spend a month or two with. She needs to be trained. Or, more correctly, retrained.

“Come stay with me.” The words vomit from my mouth before I can stop them. As though I can’t control myself—or deny how much I want this—they just keep coming. “You would learn a lot as my sub.”

What the fuck are you doing, Liam?

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