Page 6 of Body and Soul

But I couldn’t do a damn thing to help Daniella. I didn’t even know if she was still alive. After our last encounter, Ezekiel and the entire cult had gone completely off the grid. I’d hired half a dozen private investigators with no results.

“I know it’s hard,” she said, squeezing my wrist lightly. “But you have to let that go so you can live your life. I’m not saying forever. I’m saying just for tonight. Go down there, find someonenice, have a good time. There’s no reason for you to sit up here punishing yourself for something you can’t control. Especially when you’re the one who’s supposed to be doing the punishing.”

She was right. Life wasalwaysright, and I hated that about her almost as much as I loved that about her.

“All right,” I said, standing and adjusting my suit jacket, “but that means you’re going to have to keep an eye on Xander.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your brothers are big boys and can take care of themselves. Trust me when I say Rowan knows how to do his job. No one is getting through the front door of our club that we don’t want in here. Xander’s perfectly safe as long as he’s here.”

That should’ve been more comforting than it was, but Life was right. Maybe a night of consensual debauchery was exactly what I needed.

That, of course, began with finding the right person, and the right person couldn’t be a regular member. Not if this was to be a one and done situation. While I trusted our members to be adults and to be able to separate feelings from fucking when necessary, I didn’t want there to be any expectations or history there. That would only make it more difficult for me. I needed someone new, someone fresh, someone who’d probably have no idea who or what they were getting into, but eager to find out.

The lounge gave off a dim and inviting glow. Wide leather couches lined the walls alongside low, gold accented tables. Then, of course, there was the bar with its matching gold and orange tones. Everything was sleek and modern, with the furniture strategically placed to provide pockets of intimate space in a public area. Normally, it was the only part of the club that was accessible to the public without membership, but on the third Thursday of every month, we opened the bottom floor to prospective members. On those nights, the place waspacked with a wide variety of patrons ranging from experienced kinksters to the curious.

People from all walks of life found their way into the lounge. Watching them mingle and going down to chat used to be my favorite part of the night.

Liar,came Keres’s voice in my head.There’s another moment you like more.He was close to the surface, awake and aware, but with no control of the body we shared. Not yet, anyway.

We had an agreement, Keres and I. As long as there was no immediate danger, he was supposed to watch and wait. In The Playground, I was in control. It was my venture, my passion, my sanctuary. He could be out almost anywhere else, but not inside these four walls.

He was right, though. No conversation, no matter how stimulating, could ever live up to the moment a submissive gave themselves over completely. The moment they realized I held their life in my hands, and they trusted me to do with it whatever I wanted was the ultimate high. That was power, but it was also out of my reach. Getting there required the right person and much more trust than I could build with anyone in a single night, so I’d have to settle for something a little less intoxicating.

Mariann and Allen waved to me from the corner where they were sitting with a handful of newbies. They were an experienced pair of doms who had taken it upon themselves to welcome new people and try to educate those who wanted to learn about the lifestyle. They ran a weekly podcast that I had to thank for a membership boom a year or so ago. I gave them a quick nod, but didn’t go over. I didn’t want to interrupt whatever conversation they were having.

Xavier sat near the roaring fireplace, leaning on one arm while he listened to a pair of young men on the loveseat across from him. They were clearly working up to propositioning him, but he didn’t look interested. I didn’t blame him. They were muchtoo eager, and Xavier knew better. He was probably entertaining them until Xander came back looking for more.

I scanned the room, searching for someone who might hold my interest for more than a moment. The lounge was full of beautiful bodies adorned in everything from skimpy leather and lace to designer suits, but my gaze slid over them, disinterested. I was about to give up and retreat upstairs when a peal of bright laughter rose above the steady thrum of conversation and caught my attention.

I turned my head, searching for the source. There, in the far corner by the bar, a trio of twenty-somethings were huddled around a small table, shots lined up in front of them like little glass soldiers. The redhead girl with pigtails threw her head back as she laughed again, nearly toppling out of her chair. The man beside her, a heavily tattooed and pierced punk with dyed green hair, reached out to steady her with a dopey grin.

But it was the third member of their group that captured my attention and wouldn’t let go. He sat slightly apart from his friends, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. His platinum hair was messily feathered forward, the sides shaved down, and as he lowered the shot glass in his hand, I caught a glimpse of something intriguing—a black ring piercing his bottom lip.

When he turned his head, the sight of a cassette tape tattooed on the side of his neck sparked a bittersweet memory of late nights spent in dimly lit rooms, where music had wrapped around me like a warm embrace. A black t-shirt hugged his slender frame, the short sleeves revealing more ink: a skull wearing a top hat on his bicep, a whale in a goldfish bowl, a cartoon cow devouring a hamburger. Each absurd image felt like a fragment of joy or playfulness, permanently etched onto his skin.

There was an edge to him, something wild and irrational that resonated with me. It was as if I could hear him silentlyscreaming for freedom, connection, and the thrill of living without fear.

As if sensing my gaze, the young man suddenly looked up, his electric blue eyes locking onto mine and sending a jolt of awareness racing through me. My breath caught in my throat, not just from his beauty but from the intensity of that connection—like staring at a rare and precious gemstone that everyone else had somehow missed.

I had to have him.

As if pulled by an invisible thread, I found myself moving toward their table, weaving between the throngs of patrons. With each step, the urge to reach out and bridge the distance between us grew stronger.

The closer I got, the more striking his features became—high cheekbones, a strong jawline, perfect pink lips made for kissing. There was a coiled energy about him, a restlessness simmering beneath the surface that echoed my own.

His friends were oblivious to my approach, lost in laughter and chatter, but the blue-eyed boy remained attuned to me, his posture straightening as I drew near.

I stopped in front of their table. “Good evening. I’m Shepherd Laskin, one of the owners. I do hope you're enjoying yourselves at The Playground tonight.”

“Oh, definitely.” The girl giggled, giving me an appreciative once-over before gesturing to the blue-eyed boy. “Today is my best friend’s birthday.” She slurred her words drunkenly as she put her arms around him.

A twinge of jealousy squeezed in my chest. How dare she touch what was mine? But I forced myself to smile as I addressed him, hoping he wasn’t as drunk as she clearly was. “Happy birthday.”

He blushed and squirmed away from the girl. “Thanks. I'm Eli.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eli,” I said, savoring the taste of his name on my tongue. “I hope you're finding everything to your liking so far.”

“It's... different,” Eli said slowly, glancing around the lounge. His gaze lingered on a couple seated nearby, the man perched on the woman's lap, his hands pinned at his sides as they kissed passionately.

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