6. Aaron
CHAPTER 6
AARON
I resist the urge to swig back my whisky, keeping my movements measured. Alcohol helps steady my mind, though I won’t let Tristan think I’m uneasy. Do I feel slightly out of place, knowing he navigates Untamed with ease while I’m still piecing together its secrets? Sure. But I can handle it.
This place has always intrigued me, sealed from outsiders or normies, as I like to call them. I became even more curious each time my investigations hit a wall.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to explore. Leaving doesn’t interest me anymore, not after finding out where we are. Unfortunately the same can’t be said about Dom.
When we stepped off the elevator, it felt like we had entered another world. The bar is sleek and futuristic, an architectural beauty perched at the top of the hotel. Nothing like the dusty lobby we entered through.
The bar and the stage here are complete attention grabbers. Something from a movie, with two robotic arms serving as bartenders, executing drink orders with clockwork precision. The touchpads embedded in the glass bar table register our selections, and moments later, the drinks slide down a thin conveyor belt toward us.
It’s impressive.
They’ve sunk an obscene amount of money into this place, where the line between reality and dream blurs—or so they’d like us to think. It’s also a smart move. With fewer people inside, there is a lower chance of any information leaking about those who visit and what precisely occurs after nightfall.
“Okay, drinks in hand, at the bar—can someone finally tell me what Untamed is about?” Dom’s impatience is going to get him in trouble later.
“Dom just got into town tonight,” I explain to Tristan.
Tristan lifts his mask just enough to sip his whisky—a mirror image of my own order—and nods as if he already knew. “Ah, and congratulations on signing with the Slashers,” he says, shifting his gaze to Dom.
Tristan is looking for a fight.
I turn to Dom, sensing the need to placate him before his agitation boils over. “No one really knows about this place. It’s a ghostly legend only the elite are allowed to wander through. It’s invitation-only, tightly controlled. Rumor has it that every dark, twisted desire comes to life here.”
Dom blinks. “So, a high-class BDSM club?”
“In a way,” I say. “But far more intense than you’re picturing.”
“Untamed promises a singular experience,” Tristan interjects, swirling his drink. “Every detail here is deliberate, even the ones you don’t think are.” His eyes sharpen. “Do you remember how you got here?”
Dom and I exchange looks. The limo—a shared conversation, sipping water handed to us—and then, nothing.
What the fuck.
“You drugged us?” Dom speaks before I have a chance to, his voice is low but taut with anger.
“Nothing personal,” Tristan replies calmly. “It’s standard. No one remembers their arrival. The drink only erases small details, enough to preserve the secrecy. It adds to the allure. People want what’s exclusive and dangerous. They pay handsomely for it.”
A place for the rich to indulge their darkest whims.
I lean forward, my voice dropping into a threat. “If I find out this place crosses any line—harboring criminals or violating consent—I’ll burn it down, no matter who backs you.”
Tristan’s eyes glimmer. “Passionate, aren’t we?”
“I’ll be right there with him,” Dom adds, his anger simmering close to the surface. “Count on that.”
Tristan raises a hand in a gesture of peace. “Relax. Consent is paramount here—the bedrock of the community, as you well know. And if it wasn’t, I’d be helping light the match myself.”
A shared breath of relief passes between Dom and me.
Tristan tilts his head toward the stage. “See the woman by the wall? Watching, not participating?”
I follow his gaze past the bar to the massive stage that dominates the room. Luxuriously crafted, it’s a spectacle of dark wood and gold accents. Dancers glide with elegance, their movements more art than performance. Below them, a semicircular couch cradles a cluster of women, one kneeling and seemingly lost between another’s legs—the woman’s head thrown back, moans cutting through the thrum of music. My attention narrows in on the shadowed figure in the corner. Her silhouette shimmers under the dim lights, a black dress outlining her curves.
“She’s a hunter,” Tristan says, “looking for the perfect prey.”
“Do you know her?”
“I don’t need to. Her intent speaks for itself—a hunger hidden beneath practiced restraint. People come here searching for what they can’t find elsewhere. An escape, a release. Some want to break free; others, to feel nothing at all. But most want to feel everything.”
The music pulses, and the tension that hangs between us grows palpable. I glance at Dom, who’s studying the room with a guarded expression. His eyes land on the stage again, taking in the dancers and the electric energy that vibrates through the space.
The mystery woman turns, appearing to look at us while Tristan continues to speak. “Most women that come here are often looking for experienced players that can give them exactly what they want. This one wants to be chased, dominated, used, forced to beg. But I bet she won’t be satisfied with just one player.”
Multiples.
An image of the three of us having her pops in my head, but I shake it away instantly.
I can’t take my eyes off her, wishing she would step out of the dark and come closer.
“So, what now?” Dom’s question breaks the silence, his voice roughened by a mix of curiosity and challenge.
That’s when she steps gracefully out of the shadows, making her way to the bar. She’s a vision, more stunning than I imagined.
Utterly elegant.
Timeless.
“Now,” Tristan smirks, finishing his drink, “we see if Untamed lives up to its name for you.”
Her black dress clings to her hourglass figure, the low-cut bodice accentuating her curves, while the rest of the fabric flows behind her. A daring slit reveals a glimpse of golden skin. Her short, dark hair is tucked behind one ear, and a face covering hides her features, though her beauty is undeniable. The shimmering crystals framing her mask draw the eye. The upper part traces the curve of her brows, while the rest cascades down her face.
But it’s her eyes that capture me—a clear, brilliant blue, like a cloudless summer sky. They lock with mine, pulling me in. I need to look away before I get lost in those eyes.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Tristan says, breaking the spell and reminding me I’m not alone.
Frustration coils through me as the realization that Tristan is taken by her too. But how could he not be? She’s magnificent.
You’re not here to meet women. You’re here for business.
Right. I’m here for work, not distractions. People are unreliable, too complicated. Work is straightforward—effort in, results out. Relationships don’t play by those rules. No matter how much you give, people betray you without a second thought. Even those who should love and protect you can fail, and often do. I only trust a select few; everyone else is a business transaction.
I've sacrificed too much to get here, risking everything—including my life. I'm not about to jeopardize all of that for a night of lust.
I force my gaze to the glass in my hand, trying to refocus. But when she takes a seat next to us, her scent hits me—a mix of something sweet and forbidden. It’s intoxicating, instantly driving me crazy.
She smells like my next mistake.
From the corner of my eye, I watch her long fingers glide over the screen as she orders a drink, the way her dress slides over smooth skin when she crosses her legs.
This is why I avoid places like this.
I thrive on control. Women like her unravel that control, making me forget my goals and leaving with nothing but regret. It’s why I don’t get involved with anyone. Self-discipline keeps me sharp, focused. Successful. Content.
I glance at Tristan, who’s watching me with a curious look, almost competitive. I won’t compete for her attention. If he wants to pursue her, he’s welcome to. Hell, he and Dom can fight over her for all I care.
“Those are some interesting masks,” she says softly, her voice smooth, laced with a faint, unidentifiable accent.
The sound of her voice ignites something in me. My mind conjures images of her pressed against me, whispering in that soft tone, breath warm against my ear.
A shiver runs down my spine.
God fucking dammit.
“Thank you. Yours is quite captivating as well,” Tristan responds, turning his attention fully to her.
I look at Dom while Tristan talks to the huntress. Beneath the disguise, Dom’s eyes are shadowed, tense. What’s got him so worked up?
“I think I’ve seen you here before,” she says.
“Is that so?” Tristan leans forward.
She nods, the crystals on her mask clinking softly. “I remember that mask—and the hair.”
“Well, I’m glad we finally get to meet,” Tristan says, extending a hand. “I’m Julian. This is Cole, and the one in black is Damon.”
I appreciate him making introductions, given the anonymity of our masks.
“Selene,” she replies, a subtle smile playing on her lips. “Are you all here together?” The way she phrases it catches me off guard.
Tristan chuckles. “As friends, yes. If that’s what you’re asking.”
“In a way,” she says, smile deepening.
Is she blushing beneath those crystals? Impossible to tell.
“Well, why don’t you ask?” Tristan prompts, pressing for more.
Her gaze drops before meeting mine, stealing my breath.
You are the master of your emotions. You can control your reactions.
“Are you looking for something—together or separately?” she asks.
Tristan takes a sip of his drink. “We haven’t decided yet. Have we?”
“No,” I say, eyes locked with hers.
Her smile widens, eyes glimmering. “I have a proposal.”
Proposals, deals, bargains—I’ve heard it all in business. But from her lips, those words hold a different meaning. And I’m tempted to accept without even hearing what she has to say. This desire alone infuriates me.
Whatever she has in mind, I want to give it to her.