Tamsyn
“Another fucking breach.”
Sucking her bottom lip, she didn’t dare make eye contact with the dark-haired man standing like a king in front of the fire. The flames flickered behind him, projecting him as larger than life and all-powerful.
It was horribly reminiscent of being summoned to Jedidiah’s office for punishment.
“One of the only conditions of her staying here was that she didn’t leave the cabin, Merrick. Do you have any idea of the legal ramifications we’d be facing right now if Blake hadn’t stopped? Rape in a BDSM resort? The fucking media would scalp us. Fuck the media, the goddamn politicians would shut us down before the ink was dry on the police reports.” Elias’s voice was flaying her open with every word, making her bleed from invisible wounds. “She’s a liability. You’ve done all you can for her, Merrick. Perhaps it’s time we get the cops involved now.”
They were sending her away.
Worse, they were handing her over to the authorities—it was no secret Jedidiah paid several Denver officials to keep Ridge Point off the radar. Money or virgin brides, she wasn’t sure, but if one of those officials was a city cop, word would get back to her father about her whereabouts.
Trembling, Tamsyn pressed deeper into the couch. She wore brand new clothes, a luxury she’d never had before. The jeans were stiff, but she loved the dark blue color. The T-shirt wasn’t new—it was another one of Merrick’s she’d stolen from the laundry basket, and it smelled just like him. Beneath the pale gray hoodie, her beloved owl stuffie nestled between her breasts where no one could steal him.
She’d called him Foxy because… well, she could.
Merrick stood behind her, his hands on the back of the seat. “Exceptional circumstances, Elias. Everything that happened last night kicked off because six guests decided it would be fun to run riot on club grounds, against club rules, and disturb everyone in the vicinity.”
Eli’s eyes turned to blue fire. “Don’t remind me.”
“I will fucking remind you,” Merrick fired back, undeterred by the curt, cold accent. “Tamsyn was asleep in her own damn bed when those subs started screaming. She was alone, she panicked, and she did the only thing she could—she ran to find me. If you want proof of how scared she was, there’s a wet patch about six feet down the hallway behind me where Violet cleaned vomit off the carpet at one a.m. this morning.”
“But she didn’t find you, did she?” Those hard eyes landed on her.
“Callie has triggers, doesn’t she? Does the fear stop after the first crack of a belt or does it multiply until her mind switches into survival mode?”
“Low blow.”
“No, it’s not. Tamsyn is no different to your wife, Elias. She’s been abused, assaulted, and her brain is wired to certain stimuli. She can’t vocalize her triggers; hell, she doesn’t know half of them. She ran out of the fucking cabin in a robe and bare feet because she was terrified.” Merrick’s tone was just as deadly as his friend’s; they were like two swords swinging in testing arcs, waiting to clang together. “Yes, she ended up in an orgy. Yes, she was damned lucky Blake had his wits about him. But at the end of the day, all she wanted was protection from the threat lurking outside her fucking window.”
“For God’s sake, Merrick, cut her loose. The cops will have more resources—”
“Bullshit. If Grit can’t find a missing person’s report on her, there isn’t one. What the hell are they gonna do with her? Take a statement, for whatever that’s worth, then kick her out on the street, that’s what. Maybe she finds a shelter, maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she gets mugged and raped, maybe she doesn’t.” Word by word, Merrick’s voice turned black until it was darkness incarnate. “Over my dead fucking body.”
Elias clenched his jaw. “I cannot allow a mute to run around the club, Merrick. I don’t care that she can’t talk, I’m concerned about her welfare. The guests are carefully screened, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t take advantage of the fact she can’t give consent or scream the goddamn club down. She needs a voice if she’s going to stay here.”
“I am her voice.”
A shiver ran down her spine at the confident way Merrick said those four little words.
“You understand the commitment you’re making here?” Elias asked after a few seconds’ pause. “She can’t be left alone in the club until she finds her voice.”
“I know.”
Shaking his head, the tall man crossed over to an armchair and sat regally, propping his shiny black shoe on the opposite knee as he ran his thumb over his mouth. “Does she know anything about the lifestyle? Have you explained it to her, laid out BDSM and what it entails? It’s quite obvious she’s not from our world, Merrick—is being thrown headlong into it the right thing to do?”
She jolted when Merrick’s hand slipped down to rest on her shoulder. She didn’t realize how tense the argument was making her until his touch unraveled some of the knots in her muscles.
“Got an eyeful of it last night, didn’t she? An element of it, at least. We both know I’m not allowed to tell her anything until you hand over those papers,” he continued. “Once she’s signed the NDA, I’ll take her through the rest.”
“Very well. You might consider a collar, Merrick. Permanent for the duration of her stay, or a temporary one for when she’s outside the cabin. Not for ownership, but as a facet of protection—if she has your name around her neck, no one will fuck with her.”
Things were beginning to flit over her head—BDSM? Ownership? Collars? If the giant tangle of limbs and appendages she’d walked in on last night wasn’t a huge red flag, then this was certainly a sign she was in over her head.
“We’ll discuss it,” was all Merrick said. “The papers, Eli.”
Reaching for his briefcase beside the chair, Eli pulled it onto his lap and opened it, removing a thin packet of paper and a fancy red pen. He rose and walked to the coffee table in front of her, setting them down on the glass. “I don’t mean to offend you, little one. Your presence here has been… disruptive, frankly. That’s not your fault. We just need to take precautionary measures from a business point of view.”
She stared at the pen, then the paperwork with all the words typed out. There was no way she could read even a fraction of them.
“The top sheet is the only one you need to worry about right now, darlin’. It’s what’s called a nondisclosure agreement, or NDA. Once you sign it, you agree not to talk about anything or anyone you see here.” Merrick squeezed her shoulder gently. “Want me to read it to you first?”
No, it sounded simple enough. It wasn’t like she could talk to anyone about anything, anyway. Besides, if it turned out she was signing her life away, there wasn’t really much to sign over.
They would never get Foxy.
Lifting the pen, she gripped it in her fist, but Merrick leaned over and adjusted her hold on it so it was balanced between her index and middle finger near the tip, with the side of her thumb bracing the shaft. “Remember how you told me your name, little owl? I need you to do that again, right on that long line at the bottom of the page. Take your time.”
Elias helpfully tapped a finger on said line.
Tongue between her teeth, she shuffled to the edge of the couch and plunked her cast down on the papers to keep them still. As ordered, she touched the point of the pen to the black line and painstakingly wrote each letter like she’d done before.
By the time she was done, her hand was unsteady with the effort, and her name was an untidy wave on the line. The A was higher than the T , the M lower. The S was okay, as was the N , but the tail of the Y stretched down more than it should.
“Tell the girls at reception to hook Tamsyn up with a membership, Merrick. Might as well make everything official. Thank you, little one, I’ll take that.” Elias nabbed the paper and filed it away in his briefcase. “No scening in the club until her limits list is logged in the system and her membership clears, Merrick. What you do in the privacy of your own home is entirely up to you.”
Tamsyn tipped her head back, staring up at Merrick’s face as he glanced down. One side of his mouth curved; his eyebrow twitched. “Won’t that be fun, darlin’?”
Fun wasn’t the word that came to mind, actually.
She knew what he’d done, what she’d done when she signed her wonky name.
They’d both made a choice today.
Hers was to stay.
His was to keep her.