Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
ASHER
The whiskey burns as it slips down my throat a moment before warmth spreads through me.
The Scarlet Lounge is packed tonight, much more so than it normally would be on a Thursday night, and I track the movements of every member as they meander around, chatting with those they likely never would on a normal night.
For me, though? Tonight sets the perfect scene for something we’ve been planning for a long time. Much longer than my innocent little doe realizes.
Hannah is everything I could have dreamed of, that we both could, but despite her love of pain and submission, there are things she’s never experienced, and things I’m desperate to show her.
I meet Rowan’s gaze across the bar and give him a short nod.
His face is covered by a black mask, but his icy blue eyes, so similar to my own, are visible even from a distance.
His charcoal suit is pressed to perfection, and I don’t need to see the receipt to know it’s expensive as fuck.
When you’re in his line of work, you’re never hurting for money, and he’s never been one to cheap out on shit like clothes. It’s all about the image, after all.
A well-dressed man can get away with a hell of a lot more than a poorly dressed man can. That’s one of the earliest lessons he taught me.
His dark hair is peppered with gray, the only sign of his aging. The guy is in as good a shape as I am, and I only finished fighting for a living last year. My career took a toll on my body, and I was forced to give it up after an ACL injury.
Not that I’m mad about that. Not when it meant we could put our plan for our sweet Hannah into motion.
She thinks we met for the first time a few months ago, when really, we’ve known one another a lot longer than that. She just doesn’t remember.
As if the thought conjures her, Hannah appears by the door, her hands tangled in front of her as she nervously fiddles with them.
Rowan wanted me to pick her up, knowing she’s always been an anxious little thing, but I had faith she’d make it here all by herself. The more we push, the more likely she is to run, and that’s the last thing we need.
We lost her once, before we could even have her. We’re not going to allow her to slip through our fingers again.
Hannah spots me across the room, and a bright smile tugs at her lips before she drops her gaze and makes her way across the room.
Something neither Rowan nor I could have hoped for? Her finding her way to BDSM of her own accord.
It crossed our minds in the years that we followed her, keeping a quiet watch over her life until we could finally claim her, but she found her way into the life without us having to give her a gentle push, making this next step a little easier for us all.
As soon as Hannah is within reach, I tug her into my arms and hold her against me.
“You look breathtaking,” I whisper against the shell of her ear, and her entire body trembles in my arms. She feels so fucking fragile when I hold her like this, and the idea of her pinned between the two of us is almost enough to make me throw her over my shoulder and march her into the room we have booked for later.
But I remain rooted in place.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, keeping her eyes low like the perfect submissive she is.
I haven’t formally collared her yet, but the delicate piece of jewelry is already burning a hole in my desk drawer, ready to hang around her neck.
I drop my hand to her lower back and guide her toward the booth I reserved for the beginning of the evening before we take her to the private room.
She’s made no secret of being nervous about tonight, and I want to give her the time to feel safe surrounded by both of us before taking things any further.
I slip into the booth first and pull her in after me, keeping her wedged against my body so Rowan can take her other side when I give him the signal.
One thing we learned a long time ago is that Hannah is like a frightened deer. If we give her space to run, she’s going to take it, and I’m not willing to risk it. Neither of us is.
I reach for the chilled champagne in the middle of the table and pour three glasses, each of which Hannah watches closely. When I place the third onto the table on the other side of her, she swallows heavily and reaches for her own, downing the contents in a few quick gulps.
I chuckle and drop one of my hands to her bare thigh as I take a drink from my own glass. “You’re trembling, Little Doe.”
“I’m nervous,” she admits without hesitation.
That’s one of the things I admire about Hannah.
She doesn’t hide her worries or concerns, which makes being her Dom that much easier.
I never have to worry about her not saying her safe word if she’s afraid, and that gives me a hell of a lot of comfort going into tonight.
Rowan and I are not good men.
Far from it.
Our hands are dirtier than most in this city.
But we won’t allow it to touch our girl.
Not tonight.
Not ever.