He glanced down at her wrist. She was wearing a white bracelet, plain. Axe gave one to every unattached submissive who walked in the door, so it wasn’t a surprise to see it on her wrist. But it was also a walking advertisement to other Doms. He was going to have to declare her off-limits for the time being.
He came up behind her just as she was declining another offer, and when she turned, she bumped into him.
She let out a startled squeak and immediately started to apologize. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see—oh, Michael!”
She smiled at him, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t see you there. Were you lurking?”
“I was walking,” he said, amused. “You weren’t looking. And I think you’ve forgotten the rules.”
Confusion clouded her gaze for a moment, then understanding dawned. “Sorry, Sir.”
He flicked a finger over her chin. “Better. Don’t forget again.”
“I won’t, Sir. Did you have a good trip?”
“It was…” Tedious. Boring. Lonely. “Productive.”
“Well, that’s good.” She tilted her head, curiosity in her bright eyes. “Isn’t it?”
“It is.” Well aware of the eyes on them, he held out a hand. “Come back to the office with me for a moment. There’s something I need to handle before we go upstairs.”
She put her hand in his. “Okay.”
He steered her in front of him, past the bar and down a short hallway that led to his private office. He punched in the code for the lock, then ushered her inside. “Stand right there, darling. I’ll just be a moment.”
He crossed to the desk and punched in another code to unlock the bottom drawer. He pulled out what he needed, then closed and relocked the drawer before coming to stand in front of her.
He held out his hands. “You know what these are?”
She looked down at the leather collar and cuffs in his hands, then up at him. “Yes, Sir.”
“Most often you see collars in BDSM relationships as a sign of ownership.”
Ginger nodded. “I know.”
“That’s not what this is.”
For a second, there was a flash in her blue eyes, annoyance or irritation or something equally sharp. Then it was gone, replaced by mild curiosity and perhaps…amusement? “Then what is it? Sir?”
Suddenly unsure of his ground, he cleared his throat. “I should say it’s not a sign of permanent ownership.”
That was definitely amusement. “
“You’ve trusted me to guide you through this initial phase of your exploration into BDSM,” he continued, struggling to keep his balance.
She nodded. “I have.”
“As a symbol of that trust, it would be appropriate for you to wear my collar while we’re in the club.
“You could play with others, should you wish,” he went on, though the words felt like razor blades in his throat. “But the collar would put you under my formal protection.”
“I see.”
“I also think it might be a good idea for you to see how you feel in a collar,” he went on, more confident now. “If you find a long-term relationship within the scene, it’s likely to come up.”
“I suppose it might.” She stared at the collar for a long moment, then looked up. Her eyes were solemn, all traces of amusement gone. “All right.”
“All right, what?” he prompted.