Chapter 3
Her lovely… what?
The nightin… what?
Nala struggled to retain her composure. Don’t react. Look as if nothing she said surprises you. Was that lying? Or acting? Was she good at it after all? Could she really fool these people, including Xan Ravenwood?
“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Nightingale.” Xan sat up in his seat, both eyes firmly on Nala. Don’t react. Don’t react. Oh, did she want to. She wanted to… to…
She didn’t know what she wanted to do. Probably something illegal. Nala never thought ahead, only reacted. Her mother would call her stupid. Her sister would say “refreshingly brash.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the great Mr. Ravenwood,” she said through gritted teeth. Varen squeezed her arm in warning. Nala pursed her lips together with a grimace. Be cool. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I’m sure you have!” Xan laughed wholeheartedly, his self-indulgence spreading to his guests and making them chuckle alongside him. “I assure you, young miss, I would like to hear much about you as well. Anyone who enters my Aviary is worth speaking to.”
Nala bowed her head. She hoped it looked honorary. Really, she did it to contain the sheer look of exasperation on her face.
“Please, have a seat and enjoy the festivities. Don’t feel too shy to ask the girls for any refreshments. We have even better stuff back here than up front. Oh, and you’re in time. I have it on excellent authority that Seba and Quail are about to put on a delightful show for us. Don’t worry,
” he continued, faking a haughty gloat.
“We don’t ask the newbies to perform the first few nights. Settle in and get to know the feel of The Aviary for a while. We only want members who will be comfortable here.”
His smile disappeared into a firm, foreboding countenance. What did it mean? What was he talking about? As Varen pulled on Nala’s arm, she found it impossible to look away from the man of the hour. The king of the castle. The god of the mountain.
The killer of sisters.
They sat on an empty bench at the back of the pack, behind a man in a gold shirt and black trousers and his partner, a woman in a barely-there white…
negligee. Nala tried not to stare. This woman was in her damned sleepwear.
Sex wear. Something wear that was not appropriate for public consumption.
The longer Nala stared, the more she realized she could see every luscious curve of this young woman’s body.
Her sides. Her hips. Her ass. Nothing was left to the imagination, except perhaps her pussy. If she stood, though…
The woman turned in her seat and flashed the newcomers a gracious grin. “Hi,” she whispered. “I’m Robin.” When her partner turned as well, she said, “This is my Dom, Lucian.”
Nala furrowed her brows. These women all have bird names. Quail. Robin. Starling, who appeared upstairs in her mask and red dress. And Varen had introduced her as Nightingale…
“Pleased,” Lucian said in a silky voice. “You are just in time. Seba and Quail put on the best shows. Little Quail used to be a professional if you know what I mean.” He winked. Nala had no idea what the fuck he meant.
Varen, however, understood. Yet before she could respond to the greetings, another nondescript woman in lingerie approached and asked if they wanted refreshments.
Varen ordered them cocktails without asking Nala for her preference.
For the best. She had no idea what she would say.
She was still the tiniest bit tipsy from the rum and Coke.
“What did you call me up there?” Nala asked after the lady left. “Your… sub? What does that mean?”
Varen gestured to the front of the room. “Wait. You will see.”
“No. Tell me now. Please.”
Nala didn’t mean to sound so pleading. Certainly not in front of a woman she had just met and went with to see the man who…
Nala looked into her lap. Demure. This was not like her.
She was not a woman who stood to the side quietly.
She did not stare into her lap and bite her lip while others did things around her, ignoring her.
But she had to be good for now. She couldn’t upset the balance she and Varen already established.
Nala didn’t know what “sub” meant, but she would keep lying.
Varen put a gentle hand on Nala’s. “I’ll explain everything later,” she said. “Please, let’s get through tonight first.” As two people in the front exchanged words with Xan Ravenwood, Varen whispered, “We’ll get coffee after this. It’s the least I can do.”
Coffee. They would get coffee. Okay. Nala could do coffee.
She focused on that as Xan rose from his throne and sat on one of the front benches, gesturing to his seat. The women in lingerie dispersed, sitting next to their boss, petting his arms, and whispering into his ears. Nala wanted to hurl. She did not come here to see this.
No, what she apparently came to see was something else entirely.
The couple, whom she surmised to be Seba and Quail, stepped onto the dais and bowed their heads to the several people in attendance. Nala remained frozen, not because she was shy, but because even if she knew the protocol for this situation, she could not react.
Varen squeezed her hand before unlinking their touch.
“Please enjoy our demonstration,” said Quail, a petite woman, perhaps no bigger than Nala, although the woman with a feather in her pearl headband carried herself with greater gravity.
She looked to her partner, a woman who commanded attention.
Nala did not ignore the way this woman looked at her partner: as if Quail were the prize won while sport shooting.
Quail wore a sparkly gold dress that dazzled and jingled above the knees. With her curled, bobbed hair and bright makeup, she looked like a silent movie come to life. Nala would be impressed, but women who dressed historically were a dime a dozen in Portland.
Besides, she didn’t have the mental fortitude to be impressed right now.
“Position B, my sweet,” Seba said, running fingers down the bare back of her partner. Her girlfriend? Fiancée? Now Nala was getting too technical for the situation.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gag.
Quail approached the throne, unfazed by the fact that the great Xan Ravenwood had perched upon it.
Perhaps that was the point. Guessing from the way Mr. Ravenwood looked up at the scene with the smuggest look in the universe, he was getting off on it.
Nala had to focus on the stage before she flew into an impulsive rage that saw hands wrapped around that turkey neck.
The golden woman knelt one knee on the seat of the throne, her fingers daintily curling around a sturdy, diamond-encrusted arm.
Her glittery stiletto pierced the air behind her as she drew up her other leg and knelt both knees, her arms supporting her torso in the seat of the throne.
She looked like she was posing for a pin-up photo.
Quail gave her partner a coy look. “Am I presentable, ma’am?”
“You are presentable. I daresay you make quite the display for all our friends here, including Mr. Ravenwood.”
Quail shot another look in Xan’s direction. “Am I presentable, Master Ravenwood?”
The man held up an iced drink. “You’re beautiful.”
Nala couldn’t tell if the smile on Quail’s face was genuine or not. She was a poker queen.
“Now, my feathery quail, go on and tell us your indiscretions from the past week.” Seba stood to the side, giving the audience a full view of her partner. “Mr. Ravenwood especially needs to know.”
Something curdled in Nala’s stomach. Is this going where…
Quail pouted, her fingers curling tightly around the arm of the throne.
Her ass wiggled in the air, enticingly, the light reflecting off the gold sparkles of her dress.
“I didn’t obey you two days ago. When you told me to wait for you at the café. I saw a jewelry store across the street and wanted to window shop. When you came back, you were cross.”
“Yes, Quail, because I thought something terrible had happened to you. You know how Downtown can get sometimes. All sorts of nasty people this time of year. A beautiful toy like you could easily be picked up by somebody else. I wouldn’t be able to bear the thought. You gave me such a fright…”
“I’m sorry, ma’am!”
Nala’s mouth twisted when Seba pulled up the bottom of Quail’s dress, exposing two white cheeks with a black thong running between them. “I don’t believe you. Even if I did, I would have to punish you. You must learn to obey, especially when your safety is on the line.”
A gasp tore through Nala’s chest. In shock, anger, and awe, she watched Seba’s hand come down on the nearest side of Quail’s ass.
It was a smack that could sound across the world. Or at least through the bowels of Portland. Or definitely in that tiny, intimate room where strangers sat and watched a woman get spanked by a big dominant in a suit.
Nala looked around. Everyone was fixated on the stage, even Varen, who sat coolly with her legs together and her spine straight.
If Quail were the queen of poker, then Varen was the undisputed champion.
No way I can read that face right now! To be fair, she was highly distracted by the rough spanking going on in front of her.
Quail cried out in pain. Or at least it sure sounded like pain.
Nala knew that sound when she heard it. It almost evoked a maternal instinct in her – or maybe a super feminist one.
Her rage returned, imploring her to stop that monster from hitting this poor, defenseless woman who…
who willingly got up on that throne and… exposed herself… for…
What the fuck is going on?
“I’m sorry!” Quail cried out, her ass turning a hot, burning pink with every spank her partner bestowed upon her. “I swear I’ll never wander off again without permission, ma’am! I swear it! Please forgive me!”
The words were frightening. Everything sounded off warning bells that should have made Nala call the police. Yet through the red veneer of anger clouding her vision, Nala saw something that she never expected.
Quail’s body language did not say that she was scared, let alone in need of assistance. Shit, she looked damn comfortable up there on that throne, her mouth hanging open, her eyes squinting, and her body shuddering in…
Pleasure.
This was insane. This world Nala had stumbled into was not what she expected. Oh, she anticipated some bullshit like the women in lingerie serving alcohol and pleasantries alike… but she did not expect to see a display of whatever the fuck this was. Wait. Wait.
Is this some fucking BDSM shit?
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
Holy shit!
Nala nearly scrambled over the bench and ran for her life!
“Please, ma’am…” Quail moaned, her body finally relaxing as her ass turned a solid red. “I’m really sorry.”
Seba stood up straight, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead. When she turned around, nobody was shocked to find she had unbuttoned her shirt to show off her bra. Oh, my God. Get me out of here! Nala couldn’t do this. Not this kind of environment. Not…
Crack!
Nala leaped in her seat as a final spank hit Quail’s ass. She shrieked, shaking, eyes rolling in the back of her head as she… came? Dear Lord, is this woman orgasming from a spank?
These people were insane!
It was only when the atmosphere in the room changed that people sighed and Nala realized she was halfway in Varen’s lap, clinging to her shoulder like a kid watching a scary movie. People clapped. Varen eased Nala off and clapped as well, glaring at her to do the same.
Seba gingerly helped her partner off the throne while Nala put her hands together.
Am I supposed to applaud this shit? Quail was smiling, the mirth on her blushing cheeks nothing compared to the way she wobbled off the stage with a sore ass.
One of the women in lingerie approached with a silk pillow to put on their bench.
Quail thanked her, sat down, and let out a small puff of pain.
Robin reached forward and patted the other woman’s shoulder, congratulating her on a “stimulating show.”
These people were certifiably insane. Insane. Nobody volunteered to be spanked and then got off on it!
Worst of all, Xan Ravenwood was still there, and he very much enjoyed the show.
It was the worst of all worlds for poor Nala, who could only sit and contort her face into a neutral demeanor so she could keep lying.
“Are you all right?” Varen whispered, startling her. “I thought you had an idea of what kind of place this is. Don’t you know anything about Xan Ravenwood?”
Oh, Nala knew a lot about the man. Like how he was a murderer. The whole BDSM thing? Went right over her head. If it came anywhere near her at all.
“No… I really did not have any idea.”
“Oh. Well.”
Oh, well, she said! Nala was about to wring her neck next!
The bench had no chance of releasing the woman stuck upon it, for even if Nala wanted to get up, or even if an earthquake shook the ground beneath her feet, there was no way in hell she would move.
Too much information swarmed her brain. How could she possibly process it all?
Xan Ravenwood. A strange woman already pretending to be her girlfriend.
BDSM! Nala was a stranger on the other side of a horror show window.
She didn’t even pay admission. She stumbled down the wrong corridor, where nightmares lurked, and she was trapped in a constant cycle of despair and all its trappings.
I want my sister to get justice… I want to know the truth.
When Nala finally did move, it was to gaze upon Varen’s profile. That look… determined. Agile. Capable. The woman was young, perhaps not much older than Tasha, but there was a maturity to her that made Nala wonder what she had seen in her few days on Earth.
Then she remembered. Varen came here with a purpose.
She had decided, on the spur of the moment, to use Nala as her partner to get in.
To get into a BDSM club run by the man who killed Nala’s sister.
No matter where Nala turned, she faced danger.
Deceit. Intrigue, but not the kind that entertained her.
This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted to use her rage and brash, impulsive decision-making to end the monster that was Xan Ravenwood.
Instead, she was in his den of depraved sexuality with a woman she had known for ten minutes.
What had she gotten herself into?