Chapter 5
Autumn
I don’t have a shift at Bartleby’s the next day, so I laze around in Will’s giant bed until he stands over me and drops a credit card-sized piece of plastic in my lap.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Membership to the library,” he says. “For as long as you want it.”
My eyes swim with tears of gratitude, but I blink them back. “I really love your library. Thank you.”
He looks gruff and uncomfortable.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It was Xander’s idea. Seeing how happy it makes you, I wish I’d thought of it first.”
“Jealous, grumpy vampire,” I say, throwing my arms around his waist, awkward as he’s standing in front of the bed and I’m sitting on it.
Stupid Xander. Last night had been so wonderful—I’d loved and hated every humiliating thing he said to me. I loved being their little toy. It was embarrassing and one of the biggest turn-ons I’ve ever experienced. But then he left, and I feel like that crossed a line.
Shaking off the unpleasant feelings, I kiss the mouth of the gorgeous man in front of me. I don’t care whose idea it was—this membership card comes from Will just as much as it comes from Xander.
I get ready for the day, then leave through the back door so I can then come around to the front of the library.
Once inside, I properly introduce myself to Izzie.
Well, almost properly. I tell her my name is Abigail Souris and I whisper a thank-you for all of her help before I show her my shiny new membership card.
She looks like she has a million questions, but she doesn’t pry, and I love her for that. Maybe when all of this is over, I can confide in her as a friend. Well, I could tell her everything except for the vampire aspect.
When I go to put my membership card back in my wallet, I see a notification on my phone—it’s a text from Will, who plugged both his and Xander’s phone numbers into my phone yesterday.
Will: BDSM 200 AGA .
What does that mean? It looks like a code…a library code? I don’t think it’s the Dewey Decimal System, but I’ve also never paid a whole lot of attention to that.
If the code didn’t start with BDSM, I’d be without any clues. However, I decide to take myself straight up two flights of stairs to that room.
Let’s be honest: I was going straight there, anyway.
Once inside, I examine the book spines on the nearest shelf. Yep, they’re numbered. One shelf has the hundreds, the next the two hundreds, the third the three hundreds, and so on. I’m not sure what the letters mean. Maybe they’re the first three letters of the author’s last name?
Sure enough, on the two hundreds shelf, I find the author name Ruby Agamarillo on a book titled Daddydoms and Littles: An Exploration of the Psychology of Kink in Daddy/Mommy/little Relationships and a Handbook for Navigation.
Well. That’s quite a title.
The book itself is hardbound in black cloth with a raised foil hot pink text for the title and author. It looks like a collector’s item. Given the nature of The Corbin, that wouldn’t surprise me. Reverently, I carry it to one of the tables and sit down to learn more about this relationship dynamic.
Several hours later, I’ve barely blinked.
There is so much information here. I know right away there are aspects of a traditional DDlg dynamic that I don’t want a part of.
In my previous explorations of the BDSM world, I know not to judge anyone else’s kinks.
So age play with little girls or boys who want to wear diapers or drink from bottles—that’s fine for them.
It’s not something I’m interested in, and that’s fine for me.
What I want more of is what Agamarillo posits is the basic tenet of this dynamic: a caring protector, someone to take away stressors and allow the little to enter a space where they can forget about outside concerns.
And for the “parent” figure, they have a deep need to provide for and guide someone, physically, emotionally, and sometimes sexually.
Damn. Damn, do I need this. And it’s exactly what The Corbin was, and now the role that Will is fulfilling.
I practically float out of the library and back to the door to Will and Xander’s apartment. As soon as I knock, Will lets me in.
“Did you find the book?” he asks as he shuts the door behind me.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say.
His smile is wicked. “Good girl. Did you eat lunch?”
“No. I forgot.”
He fixes me a sandwich. It isn’t a basic PB from the hallway outside Will’s office, I can hear the even sounds of her breathing. Will, of course, is awake. We rarely sleep, and when we do, it’s only for an hour or two at a time.
He hears me standing near his door and he rises from the bed. He doesn’t have to ask; I can read the question on his face.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m leaving. One of us has to.”
He scoffs. “You’re sulking because she told you no.”
“It’s not that she refused me; you know it’s not that. She’ll come around if I stop treating her like garbage. But there’s a reason I’m treating her like this—to keep distance. Distance that we sorely need.”
“We don’t need distance.”
“We do,” I say. “If she sticks around, we will, eventually, kill her.”
“We would never hurt her. I’m weary of this argument.”
I clench my jaw so hard, I fear my teeth will crack. “As am I. There’s no reasoning with you. But don’t get attached to the mouse. They have short lifespans. And when you’re responsible for making hers shorter, don’t come to me to wipe you off the floor again.”
“You were happy enough to play with her when she wasn’t turning you down.”
“She goes, or I go,” I say. “And if I leave? I’m not coming back.”
Eyes ablaze with anger, he shakes his head. “Fine then. Go.”
I’m not surprised that he chose her. In some ways, I’m glad he did—I wouldn’t be able to stand it knowing she was out in the city without our protection.
But I can’t fucking stay here, too, not when I know how easily it could get out of hand. Not when we are just as dangerous to her as the world beyond.
Will
It’s past midnight and I’m sitting in bed, scouring rare book sites on my phone. More out of boredom than anything. Autumn, as a human, needs to sleep occasionally. As her daddy, I need to make sure she gets her rest.
She’s felt guilty since Xander left.
Two days have gone by since Autumn said she didn’t want to fuck him.
Two days since he left in a huff.
Two days with her all to myself.
We’ve fucked in all the rooms. I’ve had her blood. I’ve fucked her with my mouth, my cock, my hands. I’ve filled her tight little ass with my fingers while eating her out. No matter what I do, she’s always ready for more.
My little girl is utterly perfect.
At the same time, I miss my best friend, my frerte.
If I could go back in time two nights, I would try to convince him to stay. He’s a stubborn asshole, though. It probably wouldn’t have worked.
Autumn is sleeping, curled up next to me in one of my t-shirts. I made the right call. She can’t be out in the city. It’s too dangerous. I need to keep her, protect her.
Her breathing is deep and even. The girl’s exhausted. Her blond hair curls about her face. Wild. Reserved. She’s a paradox—jaded, innocent, devilish, angelic.
I find a book about the crafting of the earliest Hawaiian surfboards. I cross-reference it with our library’s catalogue. We don’t have the book already, so I enter my credit card information and make the purchase.
The site’s algorithms point me to more books on the history of surfing.
Several of them, we already own, but I find two more that we don’t.
Xander will be annoyed. The surfing history room is his pet project.
Sighing, I copy the link to the site and send it to him. It’s a peace offering. Will he take it?
From surfing history, I move to medieval weaponry books. It’s a more popular topic, meaning there is more to wade through. We have most of these. It’s a bust.
Fine. Contemporary Indian films. There are books, dissertations, and it’s a popular topic which is not fixed in history, so new volumes are constantly being produced. I find a couple of promising collections and browse through, selecting new books to house in The Corbin.
As I’m about to switch my search to midwifery, a thump sounds on the back door, across the hall from my office.
My mind instantly jumps to the day when Autumn pounded on the door, panicking because she had been seen.
But Autumn is safely in bed next to me.
There is no further sound. I start to settle back against the pillows and open the search bar on the book site. A niggling feeling of unease builds in me, though.
That thump. What caused it?
I can’t rest until I look. I must reassure myself that all is quiet.
Easing out of bed, I’m careful not to wake Autumn. I pull on a pair of jeans. Walk out of my room, through my office, across the hall to the door.
I open it, not expecting to find anything, but there’s a massive, unrecognizable form at my feet. It barely moves, groans something unintelligible.
The scent of old blood hits my nose at the same time I hear his low, anguished moan. His shirt has been ripped in places, like wild animals attacked him. I roll him over to see his face, but before I even get that far, I see the swirling, ancient tattoo on his bicep and shoulder.
This pathetic creature at my feet?
It’s Xander.