Chapter 16
Two weeks after making her grand debut in The Raven, Nala was back, arm hooked around Varen’s and descending the secret stairs with nary a trip of her stiletto heels.
“You sure you’re set to go?” Varen asked, stopping their steps at the bottom of the stairs. She waited for Nala to catch her balance before continuing. “This place is too small for us to meet for a private conversation. Ask me something now before we go in.”
Nala stood up straight, tugging at her body-hugging lavender dress delivered fresh that morning.
Gonna let the woman pick out my outfits.
Obviously, she was capable of a healthy flush of desire or two around Nala, but she wanted to make sure the others knew how much Varen wanted her around the clock.
If I can’t get a spring in her step from one glance, then I’m not her real girlfriend.
No one had told Nala this. She had deduced it herself.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Nightingale, reporting for duty.”
Varen’s hand squeezed Nala’s shoulder. “You can be yourself.”
“No, I can’t.” Varen knocked on the door, making that creepy butler appear. “They wouldn’t like Nala. They like Nightingale. And after tonight they will think she’s the shit.”
The door opened. They were welcomed with a proper announcement, forcing three pairs of heads to greet them. Quail and Seba appeared to be running late.
“Gale!” Nala could always count on Robin being the first to welcome her to these things.
I sort of like her. Robin was crazy obsessive with the lifestyle and a bit too chipper for Nala, but she may be the ticket to best friend stardom for Nightingale.
Rope her in. Make her your solid ally in this place.
Quail was a bit too reserved to read, and Starling self-absorbed.
Maggie? Well, Nala was still trying to figure that woman out.
In the times since seeing her new best friend, Nala had deduced that Robin was a true lifestyle submissive. She enjoyed serving, as evident when she hauled Nala to the wet bar and insisted on pouring her a cocktail.
“This is for your Mistress.” Her chipper attitude was almost infectious. “I know you probably want to make your drink for her eventually, but everyone swears by this. Get her started with a sip or five, and she’ll be the sweetest dominant in the room.”
Yeah, I bet. Nala took both drinks and forced a pleasant smile. “Thank you so much, Robin. I appreciate how you’ve taken me under your wing, so to speak.”
Nightingale had the softest voice Nala ever heard come from her throat.
Submissive, but not a pushover. That was the persona she was building for Nightingale.
Nightingale loved to make her Mistress happy and shower her with adoration, but she did it because it brought her genuine joy.
That was the part Nala had to remember. I’m becoming an actress after all.
Either that or she was becoming more comfortable around the other members of The Aviary.
The female members, anyway. She remained suspicious that one of the men would try to arrange a rendezvous with her.
Robin took a step back, flustered. Her pink cheeks turned cherry red as she hid a grin behind the palm of her hand and giggled out that sweet mirth.
No wonder she landed someone easily. Nala’s next smile was slightly flirtatious, as if to say, “You know, if your Dom allows it, you can threesome with me and my Mistress.”
She didn’t dare send that grin to Varen. Might give her the wrong idea.
Nala returned to her Mistress with two drinks in hand. “Here you go, ma’am,” she said sweetly, her newly free hand rubbing the top of Varen’s jacket. “Robin kindly made us drinks. I had to bring them to you myself, though.”
A flash of surprise flittered in Varen’s eyes, but she quickly blinked it away, sampling the cocktail with a swish of the tongue. “Thank you, darling,” she said, her words burrowing deep into Nala’s psyche. I sometimes forget she’s a better actor than me.
“Anything for you, Mistress.” Nala leaned her head against Varen’s shoulder, using it as a chance to survey the room. The other couples milled about, Starling breaking off to greet Quail and Seba as they finally entered. As of yet, Xan Ravenwood was nowhere to be seen.
Every time Varen looked at her, it was with a hint of intrigue.
I told you this was going to happen. They had several phone conversations since Sunday night.
Varen was convinced that she had somehow wronged Nala; Nala telling her that this was what was best for her.
The more she separated herself, the easier it was to play the part necessary to get the justice she demanded.
Josephine approached them, shaking Varen’s hand and asking about business.
Nala made sure to nuzzle her Mistress’s arm, acting as if anything Josephine said was nowhere near as important as making sure Varen was happy right now.
There’s that perfume. Nala glanced at Varen’s physique and was almost disappointed to not see any signs of arousal.
Maybe later. Nightingale loves sex. Okay, so did Nala, but Nightingale loved Varen’s sex. Starting to freak myself out now…
It didn’t take long for Xan to arrive. He came through the secret door all smiles, his usual bevy of lingerie-clad beauties in tow, and headed straight to the wet bar to get everyone drinks.
“Good evening!” Unnerving how easily he smiled. Man is a true psychopath. Or maybe it was because he wasn’t directly involved with killing people. “Pleasure to see everyone here already! Unfortunately, I was caught up in traffic. Almost had my driver hop out and cobble a pedestrian or two.”
Varen and Nala exchanged glances. She was probably thinking what Nala was… driver? Assassin? Same difference.
“You know these blasted Oregonians,” Xan continued. “Law gives them too much pedestrian right of way. Idiots think they can jaywalk whenever they damn well please…”
Nala hated to break it to him, but that happened in Nevada too.
Once Xan was over the terrors of driving down Burnside, he welcomed everyone to have their seats while the intimate party began.
The benches were arranged in a semi-circle this time, allowing each group to eye each other as they drank, cuddled, and whispered nothing into one another’s ears.
Varen led Nala to one on the far end, letting her take the seat right next to the stage – and where she could hide the best.
“Who here is from Oregon?” Xan asked, sitting upon his throne.
“I admit, I hardly even visited here until about ten years ago. Now it’s practically home, with all its… trappings.”
A woman brought him a glass of brandy and draped her body across the back of his chair.
Women: victims and decorations. Nala had to keep her eyebrows in check.
Nightingale was expected to be a vision of decorum and class.
Only one person in the room admitted to being from Oregon, and that was Lucian. “Grew up in Tualatin,” he said. “Doubt many of you have heard of it.”
Nala suppressed an eye roll by half-burying her face in Varen’s shoulder.
There’s a bus that goes out there! It’s in the fucking metro area!
Good Lord, rich people. Didn’t even bother to know the names of towns and neighborhoods in their area that didn’t concern them. If only Nala could be so privileged.
This conversation led to people going around the room and talking about where they were from.
Most were from California. A couple, like Quail and Starling, were from the east coast.
Varen told the truth and said Fresno. Nala, on the other hand…
well, she would let Lucian be the only “real” Oregonian in the room.
“I’m from Nevada,” she said sweetly, although her lie didn’t stop there. “Henderson.”
Varen glanced at her but said nothing. You know why I’m lying.
Polite applause rippled around the semi-circle, with Robin clapping the most enthusiastically. Nala tried to relax her shoulders and exude a warmth that she was not used to producing. Varen, on the other hand, remained her stoic yet gracious self.
“Varen has shared that she’s quite the bondage aficionado. I thought we would start the evening with their initiation. A simple – or not so simple, if you’re our Varen – bondage demonstration with Nightingale as the lovely model.”
More applause. We’re doing it now? Xan and his beauties stepped off the stage and took seats on a bench behind Maggie and Jay.
Maggie shifted in her seat, eyes glancing behind her with a frown threatening to consume her countenance.
Interesting. Nala focused on that as she followed Varen onto the stage.
Better than focusing on the fact she was about to be erotically tied up in front of these people.
“Please get into position,” Varen said, loud enough for the people nearest them to hear.
Nala stood in front of the throne, keeping her chin up and the clean bun on her head back.
Varen wanted her to have her hair down, but for the demonstration, it was best if it were out of the way.
“I’ll eventually get to the point where I can braid your hair with the ropes. Perhaps.”
That’s what she said on the phone the day before.
Nala thought it silly at the time, but now wondered if it would feel good…
Varen was a silent demonstrator. She wasn’t the type to talk to the audience while she worked, preferring to let her artwork speak for itself.
My quiet lady. That’s what Nightingale would say if she were allowed to speak right now, but they both decided it best that she speak as little as possible, in case her temper got the best of her.
So Nala lowered herself to her knees, taking care that her heels didn’t accidentally pierce her ass when she leaned back.
One silk rope after another landed in front of her, coloring the stage in deep crimson. Nala had no idea what design Varen thought about. The only planning they did together was to decide what position Nala would start in. Varen told her to follow the lead after that.
“Good.” She tickled the back of Nala’s neck, her caress sending unexpected shivers down her back. Someone swooned in the audience. Probably Robin. “You’re doing great, darling.”
So that was the pet name she settled on. I wonder if it’s natural. What did she even feel about Nala after Sunday night? Did she care? Right now, I can’t afford to care. Not like I love the woman. And yet…