Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3) (13 page)

"Feel better?" Jayson asked.

"Not really," I said.

"You're going to see a lot of bondage tonight, so we need to go back to looking at photographs," Hank grabbed a hand and pulled me to a sitting position. "You'll sit between Jayson and me, and we'll talk you through this."

* * *

"You may get some looks for dressing like this, but it's okay for tonight," Hank rubbed the back of my neck as I slid my feet into turquoise ballet slippers. I wore jeans with a turquoise tank top, and a denim jacket over that. Not the normal costume for visiting a dungeon, I guess. I still didn't know how he planned to dress me for KingDom's, and didn't really want to ask.

The other thing I'd learned after Hank and Jayson forced me to stare at photographs, was that Bill signed both of them up as Special Agents, working part-time for the Department. Their first priority, it seemed, was to keep me safe. The second was to help track Oscar Forde and associates.

Everybody (except me) would be carrying concealed weapons. If you counted my claws and a few other talents, I guess I was armed as well.

* * *

"You will address me as sir," the receptionist pointed at me when I walked up to the front desk at the Sub-Mariner with Hank.

"Have you been knighted by the Queen?" I asked, blinking at him in disbelief.

"No. Why?" his voice was surly.

"Then you haven't earned that title from me," I replied evenly.

"Where's your leather?" The man eyed me speculatively before poking at me again.

"I'm vegetarian," I poked back. "The cow is still wearing my leather."

"Don't," Hank held up a hand as the guy seemed ready to backhand me into a wall. He nodded and stayed quiet as Dale Saylor walked up to us.

"Dale, this is Breanne Hayworth," Hank introduced me to the man I'd only seen on the news before.

"Breanne," Dale Saylor used my first name and nodded to me. I read him again briefly. He was bisexual; I knew that already from reading him during the news broadcast. He also considered me Hank's property and wouldn't touch unless Hank gave permission. I wanted to slap my forehead. I muttered pleasantries instead. Dale had read the book, just like anybody else might. The thing in his favor was that he found my torture repugnant, so I was polite.

"We don't allow breath play, knife play, branding or mutilations," Dale explained as we walked out of his office later and down a corridor. So far, I'd only seen the reception area and Dale's office. When I caught the first sounds of leather slapping on flesh, I jerked.

Opal's shifter hearing was sharp, although not as good as mine, so she didn't catch the sounds until moments later. My breaths were already ragged. "Bree, they're having a good time," she said softly.

"Huh?" Jayson turned to us—he and Hank were walking ahead of us, Bill behind.

"She has better hearing than a dog," Opal muttered angrily. "Just because she can't see anything right now doesn't mean she can't hear it."

"Fuck," Jayson mumbled.

"Bree," Hank turned to stand in front of me before pulling something from his pocket. "Do you want these?" He held out a small, plastic bag with foam earplugs inside. My lower lip trembled as I blinked at him.

"What if I need my ears for something else?" I hunched my shoulders and dropped my eyes to the floor. Hank wore polished, black leather boots with the black leather pants he wore. I studied the boots for a moment, attempting to even my breathing.

If Hank wanted, he could ride off on a motorcycle after we were done visiting the Sub-Mariner. It brought up memories of Kalenegar. That Larentii's reaction to my discomfort would be a mind blast and not earplugs, if he still harbored his previous disregard for me.

"I'll get through this," I whispered, lifting my head again. Hank gave me a short, half-nod and stuffed the earplugs back in his pocket. Bill's hand went to the back of my neck and rubbed it gently before we continued our journey.

Time
. So much of mine had been spent enduring unpleasant things. The trick, I think, is just to keep walking. Life is putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how frightened you are or how hard your legs shake as a result.

I witnessed all sorts of things inside the Sub-Mariner that night. Spankings. Bondage. Flogging. Piercing. Flesh hook suspension. Sex. The list was long. Even with the people around me reassuring me with mindspeech at every turn, I was still shaking when we were ready to leave.

No, I didn't notice at first, because my head was lowered as I fought a battle with my inner demons. Her scent finally caught my attention. I jerked my head up. Janine—the same Janine from the deli who'd dumped my soup in the floor the last time I'd seen her, stood in front of me. Would it have helped if I'd read her before? Things would certainly be different, I know that much.

Janine was dressed for the Sub-Mariner in a leather corset, stockings and a thong; it registered on my brain without any explanation. I dropped my shield automatically to see why that was. The images that swam through my mind nauseated me.

Hank had never said who his last fuck buddy was. I was learning, through my reading, that it had been Janine. Yes, it might have been ironic that I was standing in front of his ex, because I was seeing the plot of nearly every romance novel I'd ever read race through my memory.
Girl meets boy. Girl meets boy's ex. The plot thickens
.

There was a twist here, though. I not only read how Janine had kept tabs on me before; she'd recognized me in the deli—after more than two years. I also saw exactly how she and Hank had kinky fun—I was too stunned to slam the shield back up at first. No, he hadn't had anything to do with her for more than four years, but she still wanted him.

"You bitch," Janine hissed at me. Hank stood there, his head swiveling from her to me and then back to her.

"Is that the best you have? Calling me a bitch?" Suddenly, my anger was white-hot. Yes, she liked being dominated by Hank. Loved getting flogged by Hank, along with many other specialties he seemed to have. Another woman? Different story. Her claws were coming out. Well, she probably should have stepped back, because mine were longer and infinitely more dangerous.

"I called you a bitch, bitch," Janine sneered.

"I can call you the same thing—in any language you choose," I said. "If Hank still wants you, you're welcome to him," I snapped before stalking past her. No, I could never, ever compete with what she'd done for—and with—Hank. Well, they were welcome to each other. It was time for me to leave.

"Breanne," Bill and Opal were right behind me. I didn't stop until I reached the sidewalk outside the Sub-Mariner.

"Bill, I need a hotel room." I walked—stiff-legged and angry—down the street.

"Bree, what happened? Who was that woman?" Opal gripped my arm and gently stopped me from walking farther away from Hank and Jayson.

"That was Hank's ex," I said. "I didn't read her until now. I wish I hadn't. She was hoping I really was dead, like everybody thought."

"You've seen her before?" Bill asked.

"Yeah. She works at the deli not far from my house. The last time I saw her, she dumped the soup I ordered on the floor. I didn't read her then and figured it wasn't worth the argument, so I left. She's been stalking Hank—and me before I disappeared. Now I'm on her radar again. I'm not going back to Jayson's. He and Hank can do whatever they want from now on. I'm out."

"Breanne, I don't think Janine matters to Hank," Opal said quietly.

"Opal, that's not it. I saw what they liked to do together. I'm never going to do those things." I started walking again.

"This is why you call it a curse, isn't it?" Bill said softly, keeping pace with me.

"Part of it, yes," I swallowed with difficulty. Tears were threatening now, and Opal and Bill didn't need to be anywhere near them. "I just need a hotel room somewhere," I said before the sobs came. I misted away to keep Bill and Opal safe.

Chapter 7
 

My cell vibrated while I handed a credit card to the desk clerk. I'd refused to answer mindspeech, so they were trying their second option. This time, I hadn't put the stalker app on my phone and made sure nobody else could do it, either. That might not keep Bill from tracking me, but Hank and Jayson could go fuck themselves. Or fuck Janine. I didn't care.

"You're on the fourth floor," the desk clerk handed a key card to me while the phone continued to vibrate in my pocket.

"Thanks." I got my credit card back and walked unsteadily toward the elevator.

* * *

"She can't read you, but she read Janine," Opal, her arms crossed angrily over her chest, glared at Hank. "Whatever she saw made her feel inadequate, and there is no way in hell that woman should feel inferior to anybody else. I don't care if good old Janine can fuck you upside down while playing
Yankee Doodle Dandy
on the accordion."

"Janine is nothing to me," Hank raked fingers through his hair in frustration. "You say Janine's been keeping tabs on Bree?"

"And on you."

"I knew she kept showing up," Hank shook his head. "But every time she walked into the club, she always left with somebody else."

"Trying to make you jealous, no doubt," Opal snorted.

Jayson sat behind his desk, watching the exchange. He'd taken the others to his downtown office to discuss what to do about Breanne's disappearance. Bill sat on the sofa nearby, staring at his hands.

"What worries me," Bill broke the ensuing silence, "is that Janine might place Breanne in danger. Let's face it—if she's approached by the nut jobs from those websites, she can point them in the proper direction. Can't she?" Bill lifted his eyes and studied Hank's face.

"Yeah," Hank turned away. "Of all the things to happen," he sighed.

"Janine's what they call a Velcro collar, and a SAM," Jayson offered. "She jumps from one dom to the next, and SAM means smart-ass masochist. She's always had a smart mouth, but while she was with Hank, that's the most subdued I've ever seen her."

"So she wants more of that," Opal snapped. "Maybe you two deserve each other," she hissed in Hank's direction.

"I informed Janine of the rules at the beginning," Hank began.

"Really? Fucking men and their fucking rules," Opal tossed up a hand. "A woman is always more involved and way more invested in any relationship, and men are just too stupid to see it. Did you try the same shit with Breanne? No wonder she always looked as if she hadn't slept for a week whenever we worked together."

Bill's cell buzzed while Opal and Hank glared at one another.

I'm at the Christopher Hotel
, the text read
. I don't want company tonight
.

"She's at the Christopher." Bill turned his phone around so the others could see.

* * *

Breanne's Journal

I'm sorry you saw that
, Hank's text read.
Janine was a mistake, but I took her on because she needed a firm hand. I guess you know that, too. I wish I could take those images away. Now I understand better what you've been suffering through all this time
.

Bree
, Jayson's text read,
come home to us. We'll make this better, I promise
.

Breanne, I love you. Please don't let this upset you. I know this is difficult, but will you still go through KingDom's tomorrow night? I desperately need the information, sweetheart
. I sighed as I read Bill's text.

Bree, men are assholes most of the time
. I wanted to laugh at Opal's message. I brushed tears away instead.

Opal, bring Bill to the Lean Bean at nine tomorrow morning
, I replied to Opal's text.
We'll talk about KingDom's there
.

Okay
, her reply was immediate.
We'll be there
.

* * *

"You didn't sleep, did you?"

Hank and Jayson had come to the Lean Bean with Opal and Bill. Hank's dark eyes narrowed as he assessed my appearance. I ignored his words. I hadn't invited him. Or Jayson. They'd come anyway.

"I thought Trina was going to hit me with a skillet this morning, and Mom won't speak to me," Jayson said as he slid into the seat across from me. I'd chosen the back booth by the window so the spotty sunlight might warm away some of the chill. I was cold again, and even the latte I'd bought wasn't helping.

Bill scooted in close to me, while Opal squeezed in on the outside. Hank took the spot next to Jayson with a heavy sigh.

"Bree, you don't look like you feel good," Bill began. He was right—I didn't. Images of Janine, strapped to a Saint Andrew's cross kept popping into my head while Hank—I shuddered and forced the images away for perhaps the fortieth time.

"You keep seeing it, don't you?" Hank said.

I turned away from Hank, but that didn't mean his words weren't true—all those things I'd read in Janine the night before played like a loop through my memory. I had no idea how to shut it off. I'd spent half the night sitting atop Morro Rock after discovering that sleep was impossible.