Chapter 12
Juniper
Dragon Island
The drive to the resort the fraternity has reserved for a week only takes ten or fifteen minutes in one of the island buggies.
A large hill teems with forest in the center of Dragon Island, and the road dodges around it, hugging the beach.
I get a view of endless but serene ocean and smell the salt in the breeze that ventures onto the island.
Seagulls cry above the palms and circle in small flocks, and the sky is so damn blue.
It needs at least one cloud to qualify as real.
A tall white-brick wall topped with ornate metal separates the resort from the rest of the island.
A guard holds up his palm to stop us at the sliding entry gate.
“Yes, sir? ID?” He’s wearing a navy jacket, buttoned shirt, and long pants, despite the early autumn heat.
“We’re guests.” Tomás displays some sort of ID then gestures at me. “She’s with us. We’ll give her details at reception.”
“Sure, sir. You can go in.”
The gate slides fully open, and as we drive deeper into the resort, a low, two-story building spreads across the horizon beyond a landscape of scattered palms. Yellow, white, and red flowers swarm beside the road in mounded embankments, and at the circular driveway, Mr. Loxland parks the car.
A valet trots up to take the keys. The yellow buggy looks dismal beside a Porsche and a Bugatti, leaving me wondering why anyone would even bring those cars here—a simple display of too much wealth.
A short but meandering path through a garden brings us to an expanse of weathered stone stairs. Ascending them makes me imagine myself some sort of sacrifice.
Above the wide entry, DRAGON RESORT is written in gold letters half the height of the door. The reception foyer is empty of other guests, and a lost sparrow flits about tweeting near the ceiling, in the open space three stories above us. Light shafts down through panels of etched glass.
This place is built for giants, very rich giants. I shiver at a sudden perception I have of myself as something small, insignificant, and weak. I do need to be strong. The collar intrudes and whispers to me of my situation.
Whatever I do here, I must be bold and brave, whenever I can be, though there will be times when that is impossible.
I breathe in and bring my gaze back to ground level.
“Good morning. Mr. Loxland. Mr. Zambrano.” A woman in a navy suit and a neat, brunette bun beams at us. “Your room key. Your luggage is in your room. And please surrender all electronic devices.”
Key? Only one room for us? Of course it’s only one. I know how these two operate.
The key is two cards, but I guess those are identical.
“You want to know who Juniper is. Juniper Skye.” He slides a printout across the shiny desk that I assume has more of my details on it. Then he surrenders his phone, and Tomás does the same. I merely shrug. Mine is back at the hotel.
I had hoped to be anonymous, to avoid the chance of the police descending on us, but that’s now blown. If they find out anything at all about my involvement in Nathan’s demise, they will find out I’m here.
“May your stay be pleasing, sirs.”
“They will.”
Tomás nods, digs in his pocket, then looks to me and points at the polished timber floor near his feet. My leash jingles as he lets it uncoil from his hand.
“Oh.”
He beckons with one finger, and I go to him, waiting while he attaches it. “Ours.” His eyes have the dance of a devil in them.
I’m not here for sex, I remind myself, as we head further into the building and wait outside an elevator.
“We’d have made you crawl but it’s a bit too far,” Mr. Loxland drawls. “However, once we are in there, drop to your knees.”
Obedience is in the deal. I nod and say nothing.
Once in the elevator, I lower myself and sit on my heels, approval obvious in the small creases about his eyes. “Good girl.” He rests his hand on my head.
His touch and the words pleases something inside me. I remember Tomás’ words we know your kinks. I’ve never explored them, or not like this.
But doing it with men whose morals are as shaky as mine…
“You brought her costumes?” Tomás asks as the door dings then opens on a woman in a cat costume with little black ears. Loxland answers, but I barely hear him.
She wears a black-and-gold body stocking that’s split at crotch and areolas, revealing her skin, nipples, and mons.
A hint of her slit shows until she lowers herself to all fours.
A chain is attached to her gold nose-ring, and a massive man of Asian appearance leads her.
Whatever language he speaks, my guess is Japanese.
He stops to kiss her, then stands her up and pins her front against the back elevator wall.
I crawl out but turn to look, mesmerized.
My mouth is open, my tongue touching the roof of my mouth, as he pushes a chrome anal plug into her ass. A black tail is already attached to the plug. Her squeaks and the way he reassures her, the way he does it in full view of us…fuck.
“Come.” Mr. Loxland wriggles my leash. “Show is over. Crawl the rest of the way.”
It’s carpet here, so I happily obey, though the skirt of the dress tends to tangle about my knees. Tomás watches the couple in the elevator until the doors close.
“I want to do that with her nipples,” he says, idly, like he’s considering a paint color for his kitchen.
My nipples?
“Like her nose was? She’s not pierced.”
“That can be fixed.”
No. No. Oh hell no, same as the stitching. This time, I don’t dare voice it.
“Yeah, or her clit.” Mr. Loxland opens the door and holds it so I can enter, brushes his hand along my spine as I crawl past. “Find her a costume so we can go below.”
I bite my lip. I’m not here for the sex, though I repeat that, it’s only out of habit.
Something about that display has totally turned me on.
My clit is so swollen I feel it with every crawling step I take.
I don’t want to be pierced or stitched, and yet that was hot—being shoved against a wall and forced to take something in her ass.
Here I am, crawling for two men, as if it is normal and natural, after watching a man shove a plug into a woman. Two strangers. This place is like being on Mars. What are the rules? I am so damn gone.
It’s all part of the deal. Sure, it is.
I am not here for the sex, fuck it.
I’m here for the murder.