Page 49 of Scarlett Thief (Criminal Underground 2)

"You do?" I blinked up at the midnight colored eyes glittering down at me. Both of them were blue-eyed to some extent, but where Hadrian's eyes were like illuminating crystals, Wolf's were deep and mysterious like the man, himself.

"Yes," Hadrian answered and suddenly my gaze was captured by him. It was almost as if they were presenting a united front to me—no, that wasexactlywhat they were doing. "You need this—you need us, Scarlett."

I shook my head, wishing I hadn't drunk as much as I had when the room seemed to spin for a moment. I wasn't drunk—not even close to it—but my head was in an uproar. All of the emotional pressure of the night, the memories, the revelations—it was enough to make me downright sick. They didn't even know the worst of it.

"It was more than..." I tried only to feel my words escape me. I didn't know how to say it. To explain what Jaxson had done—the kidnapping and murder had been the thing that had made me leave, but there was so much more before that. I prided myself on being strong, on being independent, but it didn't matter how strong a person appeared on the outside—anyone could be captured by a narcissist. Anyone could fall into a trap and struggle to get themselves out of it.

"Did he hurt you?" I jerked my head up at that question. Hadrian's eyes softened. "He did, didn't he?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I went with a different topic. "I don't do teams anymore," I said. "Because of him. I don't think I could ever do another team again. I'm forced into this one and I'll get the job done, but don't expect anything else from me."

"Oh, we'll expect something from you," Wolf warned me, his voice lowering into dangerous territory. Not dangerous in that mercenary way of his, but dangerous in that it was decidedly sexual and it made my pussy tighten and take notice. "Tell me something, sweetheart," he continued. "When you went to the club with us, did you like it?"

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, thinking about lying. "It was okay."

"That's ten, Scarlett," Wolf replied, making my eyes pop open.

"Ten?" I repeated. It took a moment for me to realize what he meant and when I did, my face flushed. "Oh, no, Wolf. You don't get to spank me."

"I do when you're lying your ass off, baby," he shot back. "You fucking loved it. You were more than curious. You were turned on; admit it. You want to know what it feels like to have Hadrian and I dominate you. You want to feel my palm against your ass. You want to know what it's like to stop thinking and let someone else take care of you."

"I'm not looking for a relationship," I snapped. "Jaxson ruined me for that. I don't want that."

"Not every man in the world is like Jaxson," Hadrian said.

"I know that," I said.

"Do you?" He arched his brow in that annoyingly snarky way of his. "Have you been with another man since him?"

I snorted. "Of course I have."

"I don't mean for pure sex, Scarlett," he said. "Jaxson wasn't a partner to you. Not like we are. We all have a stake in this. If he hurt you—if he's a narcissist—then that was all about the power to him. He wanted to control you."

"Are you saying you don't?" I shot back. "You're both in the BDSM lifestyle. You're both Doms."

Hadrian shook his head. "That is very different," he replied. "The D/s lifestyle is about a power exchange, yes, but you're still new—you don't understand the truth behind that exchange."

"I know that you get off on spanking some sub's ass," I snapped.

"We get off on dominating a partner, Scarlett." Wolf’s tone was gentle, as if he realized just how disturbed by this whole conversation I was. I backed up a step and though he looked like he wanted to follow me, he forced himself to stay right where he was—it was there in the clench of his fists and the tightening of his body. The sway when he almost moved to step forward, but at the last moment, decided not to. Almost as if he were trying to show me that he wasn't a threat.

"We only get off if our partner wants the same," he continued. "The lifestyle we lead is play, baby. Everything must be consensual. We don't agree to it if it's not. There are safewords in place to make sure the sub is constantly in control. The sub is always in control. They're the ones who give us the power—the fucking gift of submission. We don't demand it. Not really. And we certainly don't force the issue. The correct form of a D/s relationship is a mutually agreed upon one. The sub can always walk away without repercussions. It's about communication, not manipulation. It's not abuse, Scarlett."

There it was. That horrible ugly word. Abuse. It made me see red. I hated that fucking word. "I'm done with this conversation," I said, moving back another step.

"We—"

I didn't let him finish. I turned and stormed into the master bedroom and ran straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me, only to pause and lean against it in the next instant.

My heart rate was up. My head was achy. My eyes were on fire. Tears threatened to spill over. No. I wouldn't let them. With jerky movements, I yanked the dress I'd been wearing for the last several hours off my body—ripping a few seams here and there. It was expensive and I couldn't have given a single shit. I wanted to shred the damn thing.

I stepped toward the giant shower—the one thing I'd actually had renovated for this flat. Most European showers were tiny, but I liked the space in this one. I enjoyed the ability to move around without feeling like I was being squeezed into a glass coffin. I cranked the hot water on and as it came raining out of the showerhead, cascading over my face and soaking my hair, I bowed my head and prayed for something I knew would never happen. I prayed that the water would wash away my sins.

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