Shadowlands
Triumph
One elbow on the rail of the second-floor balcony, he raised a bottle of water to his mouth with his free hand.
From his position, back to the pillar, Triumph detachedly surveyed the groupings below.
He saw voyeurs on their own, couples, and throuples in the private nooks.
A larger grouping occupied the central social area.
Amid the action, servers patrolled and provided sustenance in whatever capacity was needed, and staff roamed throughout, monitoring the patrons.
Unmoved by the sights, he felt the strong bass line latch onto his heartbeat, causing his fingers to automatically tap against the plastic in time to the music.
The throbbing pulse of the electronic melodies underscored the action, but not so loud as to drown out the guests’ voices or their nonverbal responses.
“Triumph,” a voice intoned from behind him.
Flicking his shaggy brown hair as he turned his head, he recognized his business partner and friend. The man resembled a former professional football player, his arm muscles bulging beneath the short sleeves of his polo. His dark hair and eyes matched the scowl on his face.
His negligent-leaning pose instantly tightened as he turned to face forward. “You didn’t have to follow me. Could have just asked me earlier what you wanted to know.”
His friend didn’t look at him, distracted by something on his phone. “Why, when skulking around and following you is so fun? Not like I have anything else to do.” His tone said he had eighty million other things he’d rather be doing.
“Wouldn’t know. You spend so much time buried in that damn phone, most of us have forgotten what color your eyes are.”
The grouch merely grunted, but he did put the screen to sleep and slipped it into his back pocket.
Why was the man here? Since the “Francesca Fiasco,” they rarely saw him in San Antonio. “Didn’t know you belonged to Shadowlands.”
Cosmos stepped up to the rail beside him. He also stared down at the crowd in the club, his eyes focused forward. “I probably have memberships to a lot of places you don’t know about. How else would I keep an eye on the competition?”
Triumph, Cosmos, and a third friend, Tripoli, owned six BDSM and adult-themed nightclubs across the country.
More like Tripoli ran them, while Triumph and Cosmos were investors and contractors for services.
In the end, it amounted to the same thing.
This particular club the two men occupied now, their only competition in terms of the bank it made, catered to a very specialized kink crowd.
“For the longest time, I wondered why you never played at our clubs. Thought it just wasn’t your thing. When I discovered you came here on your downtime? Gotta admit, not much surprises me anymore, but this did. So my only question is, why?”
All Triumph said was, “The mantra ‘Don’t shit where you eat’ covers a lot of territory.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s the answer.” Cosmos switched topics. “You set for London?”
A year earlier, the men had planned to open a new club in England, but a series of murders at the San Antonio property and the near-death of Tripoli’s fiancée, Francesca, derailed those plans temporarily.
Finally, things were back in motion, and the group was set to leave in three days for two to three months to get everything finalized for the new grand opening.
“Everything is set here for while I’m gone, and according to the IT hire in London, everything is ready for me to come in as scheduled.”
“Good. So, tonight is… what?”
Meaning hanging out in a Consensual-Nonconsent club. If he wanted to watch porn, he could stream it from his apartment. What the fuck did the man think he had planned?
“If I say it’s just a pressure valve release before we head to another continent where I don’t know the scene, will you let it go at that?”
“Would if I believed it was true.”
Of course he didn’t. Piece of fuck was too observant for his own good. Guess that’s why he owned a company of bodyguards.
Cosmos leaned down, his forearms on the railing, mimicking Triumph’s stance. “I know you, Mason.”
Fuck. The man was using his real name. No one ever did that. Time to squash whatever douchebaggery lesson he seemed compelled to impart.
“Don’t play Daddy, Christopher. I’m not hurting anyone, including myself.”
“Didn’t say you were. Even in a CNC construct, there’s consent. You violating that isn’t possible. Just trying to figure out if your head is where it needs to be.”
“Depends on which head you’re referring to,” he muttered.
The bearded man sighed. “Let me save us some time and bullshit, yeah?”
Triumph turned his head to face Cosmos.
His friend continued, “I know you. Your friends know you. We see the pain you’re in, and we’re feeling pretty fucking impotent right now as to how to help you.”
Double fuck. He’d hoped they were in the dark. Why did he think his friends wouldn’t have a clue? He should know better.
“What the fuck are you on about? I’m fine.” That sounded good. Deny anything’s wrong.
“You are not fine.”
He made a scoffing sound and shook his head, turning back to the view. “Whatever you say.” Deny, deny.
“You want to know how we know you’re not fine?
You growl at all the female employees for crossing a room on their own.
You’d probably follow them into the ladies’ room if it wouldn’t get you arrested.
An employee forgets one swipe of their access card at any door, Michael included, and you threaten to fire them on the spot.
Ryleigh went to change a tap line the other night instead of the barback, and you yelled at her. ”
When he said it like that, it did sound like he was up for the Asshole of the Year Award.
“You practically live on the couch in the control booth at Elysium. Your landlord called Tripoli to ask him to do a welfare check on you because he thought you were dead since you haven’t used your security code in so long.”
He remained still, eyes locked on the activity below. Activity he only pretended to watch.
“I knew you weren’t there, but I went anyway because I knew he wouldn’t be appeased otherwise.”
Triple fuck. If Cosmos went to his apartment…
“Your house cleaner obviously hasn’t been there in weeks, probably more like months, because everything’s covered in dust. The food in your refrigerator all went bad.
Panama would have been orgasmic over the science experiment going on in there.
” He paused. His voice held the barest tremor.
“Tilly’s room is untouched. You never even made the bed from the last time she slept in it. ”
“I’ve been busy.” Deny, deny, deny.
“Too busy to come to Francesca’s birthday party last night?”
All the fucks.
His jaw muscles twitched in his effort to remain silent and appear unaffected. “I forgot about it. I’ll apologize to her next time I see her.”
Cosmos shifted on the rail so their shoulders were centimeters apart.
“She’s more worried than pissed off. We all are. The Triumph we know wouldn’t have forgotten.”
He couldn’t keep it inside any longer. “Maybe I’ve always been this way, and you all never noticed before.”
“Fuck that noise. Of course we’ve noticed. Shit, we all have our demons in the dark. But yours? They’re scorch-the-earth motherfuckers, feeding off you. Let them eat at you much longer, and they’ll drag you back to hell with them.”
Cosmos stood, his hands gripping the rail in front of him, knuckles white, arms just past shoulder-width apart, elbows locked.
“We are a product of our experiences,” he continued quietly.
Triumph could still hear him, though, over the music and noise from below.
“The six of us all have our own damage. Trip’s PTSD.
Elyx’s abuse. Panama’s neglect. Fereh’s trauma.
Your protection fixation. My abandonment issues.
We cope as best we can. Admittedly, some of us are better at it than others.
But you, my friend, are spiraling. We aren’t just worried, Mase.
We’re fucking terrified we’re losing you like we lost Tilly. ”
His jaw hurt from clenching it so hard, doing everything in his power to keep the fear inside. Once he spoke it, there would be no holding it back. It could not get out.
He was the shoulder others unburdened themselves on. If he opened the floodgates, who would they go to? They’d have no one to anchor them when their seas got rough. They’d have no shelter when the storms shook their worlds.
“Look. I’ve known about this”—he gestured to the club as a whole—“for a while now. Fine. Everyone has their kink. I certainly am no one’s judge, given my own proclivities.
But you’ve been searching for a ‘pressure valve release’ as long as I’ve known you.
Looked in some pretty dark places too. If this is where you finally landed, and it brings you peace in your head, have at it.
“But I’m going to say two things. One, based on how wound up you’ve been, it doesn’t require Nostradamus to tell us exactly what brought this spiral on.”
A black, rectangular box standing upright in the center of the main stage at Elysium. Swords piercing its sides. A pool of red at its base.
The pain. The sheer, heart-wrenching, head-pounding, gut-spilling pain.
“Two, nothing erases what we saw. Nothing. Not alcohol. Not drugs. Not sex. At best, you find a temporary respite here. This may quiet the beast inside for a while, but eventually it will raise its ugly head again, and its rage will be even greater. More intense. More destructive.”
Who did Cosmos think he was, telling him this bullshit? He was fucking fine! They were friends, nothing more. And why did friends always think they were entitled to get all up in each other’s business?
He sighed.
It was one thing to pretend everything was normal with everyone else, but he had never been good at doing that with himself.
And it wasn’t fair to push his anger at Cosmos.
If anything, when it came to his friends, he was the guy who knew shit was going down and sat back to watch the disaster happen, letting you figure out how to get out of your own mess until you asked for his help.
Interfering was more Tripoli’s style—Mr. Caretaker.
But for a split second, it felt good to pretend the concern was unwanted.
Or unwarranted.
A woman with golden, shoulder-length hair caught his attention.
Huge tits, a tiny waist, and a curvy ass, all encased in a simple ruby-red sheath that barely covered the basics.
When she glanced over her shoulder at a Dom giving instructions to his sub about taking care of another man in their section, he finally caught a glimpse of long, dark lashes, a straight nose, and ruby-red lips.
Cosmos’ voice came from over his shoulder.
“Get the anger you’re feeling tonight out of your system with her, if that’s what it takes to sleep tonight.
But mark my words, Triumph, the beast will rise again tomorrow.
And the day after that. And the day after that.
It will never, ever end unless you use your safe word and renegotiate your life. ”
He couldn’t hear his friend’s steps, but he definitely sensed his presence as there one minute, gone the next.
His attention returned to the woman below.
As she weaved through the furniture groupings, she stopped periodically when a scene caught her attention. Several minutes later, she stood on the outskirts of a trio—two men spit-roasting a diminutive redhead—her head tilted as if judging their technique while she sipped a colorful martini.
Something about her detached observation sparked a response from his body.
Not a conflagration, but enough that, without any consideration, he straightened to his full height and pushed away from the pillar.
Smooth and sleek, his movements drove him across the balcony, down the stairs, and to her side.
On the surface, he recognized her attractiveness. A few years ago, particularly after he’d first joined here, she wouldn’t have made it twenty feet through the doors before he pushed her down over the back of a couch and fucked her stupid.
However, at a deeper level, he recognized that his body’s reaction to her wasn’t about physical need.
It wasn’t even emotional. The need to dominate tonight…
now… hinged purely on a psychological response.
Everything he held in tight suddenly tumbled out of his control, and a scene where the other individual had no choice but to do as he commanded was the only thing that would cause chaos to right itself. For now.
When he was half a room away, she saw him coming. Her posture straightened, and in very unsubmissive-like behavior, her eyes met his. A summery blue green.
Nope. That wasn’t going to work. Wrong color. They should be brown. He didn’t want to look into eyes that were the wrong color.
Without preamble, he spun her around, one hand collaring her throat while the other held her hip tight against him. “Someone should have taught you it’s rude to stare.”
He felt the shiver slide through her body at being called out.
“It’s a sex club. Staring is expected. Welcomed, even. If it wasn’t, they’d be in a private room.”
Under his thumb, her pulse raced. Her brat behavior and her breathy words were at odds. Gooseflesh pebbled her skin.
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.
” He pushed her over the back of the couch she’d been caught watching, quickly pinning her hips with his so she couldn’t move out of place.
Lightning fast, he secured her hands at the small of her back.
Holding her wrists, his cock creasing the shift into the crack of her ass, he ground into her fleshy cheeks.
She twisted in his grip, but it was part of the scene.
When you entered the doors here at Shadowlands, submissives knew they were consenting to give up consent.
It was part of the contract. If they had particular hard limits, they had wristlets they wore in various colors, and everyone knew what the colors meant. Her wrists were empty. No limits.
Releasing one of his hands from holding her wrists, he cradled her throat in his palm and forced her to watch the trio in front of them by guiding her chin to rest on the other woman’s lower back.
He tugged the thin material of her dress from between them and flipped it onto her back. With each grind of his hips against her, she moaned and sighed, her eyes riveted on the penetration in front of her.
“You wanted to watch so much, little subbie. Then maybe you should get an up-close-and-personal look while I play with this pretty pussy.”
“Yes, sir!” she exclaimed with a giggle.