Page 17 of Reckless Covenant

I turn my head slightly, swiping my eyes over the crowds, forcing myself to figure out which one he is. It’s impossible, though… I can tell who he is not, by the various body shapes, but that’s about it.

“Morri?! Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry, I was just… observing. It is incredible, such a fucking success, and people are engaging! Two of the playrooms are occupied by actual members!” I grab her forearms, shaking her lightly with girly enthusiasm.

“No way! I have to go watch!” she squeals. We worked so hard on this club, so fucking hard, and we have so much to be proud of. And this party, the atmosphere… it’s perfect, fuck it… it’s beyond perfect.

“Jaz told me that she and Richie are coming back!” she all but yells at me.

“But they live so far away…”

“They don’t care. They said this doesn’t compare with the club back home. The equipment, the quality, the intimate decor… I’m not fucking complaining! They put on such an amazing fucking show, I mean… look at them.” She points to the stage where Jaz weeps from pain and ecstasy as Richie canes her red ass, finger fucking her in between hits. “And they’re perfect for BDSM education as well. We would be lucky to have them.”

“Yeah, I wonder how we can convince them to move here.” I laugh as I watch the middle-aged couple absolutely killing it on stage.

We met at the club in Rosston and fell in love with them, their interactions, their connection. It was incredible to see how he could read her, in even the tenseness of her muscles or the pitch of her voice, he can tell when it’s wrong. One of the best moments we’ve seen was when Jaz was so completely caught in the play, exhausted, slightly delirious from too much pleasure and a little too much pain, that her safe word, the same one she’s had for years, completely skipped her mind. But Richie… it took him a few seconds to realize something was not right and stopped immediately, swooping her in his arms and dropping to the floor, her curled up between his legs as he cradled and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, until she came out of it.

The whole crowd watched in silence, some were cuddling each other as they witnessed the love, the understanding, that bond… we all had a lot to learn that night.

It was them that encouraged us to build Metamorphosis when we told them about our idea. It didn’t come from our passion to practice, but a different kind of desire… the ability to offer people a safe, comfortable, and high-quality place where they could be themselves. We wanted to offer them a freedom they don’t have in their real lives, freedom to be themselves, freedom to indulge, freedom to push their limits, even if only for a few hours.

There’s nothing more important than freedom.

“I have to go up there in a bit.” I nod toward the stage.

“How do you feel?”

“Anxious, but a good kind of anxious. Do you think they will be disappointed that I won’t actually strip?” I tuck my hair behind my right ear, the hair of the wig a bit too silky for my liking, and nod to one of the bartenders. Rachel knows who I am, but not necessarily that I’m her boss. Everyone is on a need-to-know basis, so at the moment, I’m simply Lulu’s friend. She grabs a bottle of tequila and a bowl of lemon wedges on her way to us, then fills two shot glasses, before she pulls a saltshaker out from behind the bar.

I’m about to open my mouth to speak, to thank her, when my skin tingles, soft goosebumps bursting between my shoulder blades, to the back of my neck, wrapping around to the right, until they sizzle right behind my ear, where a cold breath brushes my skin. I want to turn, but my head is suddenly filled with voices screaming at me not to move, to stay put, to not meet the devil’s eyes.

Yet, self-preservation has no place under my masochistic skin.

So I turn, swiping my gaze slowly over the crowd, my eyes unable to hit anything that stands out.

“Do you think he’ll be watching you?” Lulu leans in, pushing a shot glass along as well.

“You said all members came…” VincentThe SerpentSinclair… his name showed up in the membership applications and I had half a mind to reject it. I really fucking wanted to. But wouldn’t that have caused a goddamn stir? I didn’t want to cause any issues for Lulu, but then again, I had no reason to reject him, no real one beyond the flashes of memories from eons ago. I was just a kid, and he was establishing an empire… then he was gone, and I… I changed my life forever.

Fuck…He brings out a different anger in me, a vicious desire to break bones, to crush hearts with my bare hands, and destroy goddamn empires. Sometimes, I would rather pull out his black eyes, than see him watching me as if he forgot who I was, who he was… whatwewere.

Only he hasn’t really forgotten who I was, has he? As he reminded me beforethe announcement, he remembers very well how I smashed Johnny Bray’s jaw, and here I was thinking that if it wasn’t for my parents, he probably wouldn’t even remember my last name.

I’m not fucking in love with him or some shit, he just brings out parts of me that have no business being on the surface. I have enough reasons to be angry, without him.

“But in all fairness, he could just be in one of the rooms already.” Lulu taps me on the shoulder in reassurance, and I realize… I don’t care. I don’t care if he’s in the playrooms, or at the bar, or dancing, or right in front of the stage watching Jaz and Richie’s show end.

I don’t care!

Even though I can’t get those dark pits out of my head, the way they pinned me when Ryan was holding me in that uncomfortable dance. Even though somehow it was enough to pull me out the shock and momentary terror. Even though it was him that calmed me with only a gaze…

I lick the skin between my index finger and thumb, sprinkle salt, swipe my tongue over it, and down the shot after cheering with Lulu.

Rachel returns, Tequila bottle clutched as she pours another one, and I down it this time without bothering with the salt. Hell, I didn’t even bother with the lemon after the first shot. I tap my glass on the bar before she gets to move away, and she pours a third, Lulu watching me with interest. I know that under that mask there’s a quirked eyebrow.

“Just… don’t fall off the fucking stage.” She pushes the shot glass away from me, then downs hers before gripping a lemon wedge with her teeth. “Are you ready?” she asks after she swallows the zesty juice.

I nod and adjust my outfit, ensure my wig is secure and rub my hands together against my chest, watching Lulu disappear through the crowd, before she jumps on stage. She’s been up there a few times already, first to welcome members and start the party, and a few times after to introduce the dancers, or various guests, like Jaz and Richie.

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