Diablo Blanco Club: Rite of First Claim (11 page)

“What the hell have you done now, Mike?” Bryce growled as they walked into the study, closing the door behind them.

“The masquerade? You and my sister were at the masquerade last night?” Mattie demanded, her hands perched on her hips and one bare foot tapping furiously against the carpeted floor.

“What?” Bryce said.

“Yes,” Mike answered at the same time as his brother. He tucked his fingers into the back pockets of his jeans, palms facing out as he waited for Mattie or his brother to continue.

“What did you do to her, Michael?” Mattie’s foot stopped moving as she waited.

“I reclaimed her.”

Mattie looked confused. Her hands dropped from her hips, and her arms crossed over her chest. She asked, “
Re
claimed?”

Bryce cursed. “Son of a bitch. You didn’t use—”

Mike faced his brother, ready to take him on if Bryce tried to deny his right to Lyssa. “She was mine. Rite of First Claim was valid and binding.”

“Not if she isn’t a member. Not if the first time was forced,” Bryce snapped back, his pose resembling the one Mattie had abandoned moments earlier.

“I submitted her name and have paid her fees for four years. And she freely admitted to witnesses our first time wasn’t forced.”

“Whoa! Whoa! Four years? First time?” Mattie pushed between her husband and Mike. “Are you telling me you and my sister? At the Club? When? Where?”

“Hon, that isn’t important right now.” Bryce cupped her shoulders and tried to shift her aside.

“Not important?” Mattie swung around to glare up at her husband. “I find out
your
brother is staking a claim to
my
sister, and it’s not important for me to find out just when they decided to bump uglies and where?”

Mike couldn’t contain his amusement. He snickered. “Bump uglies? Come on, Mattie; you can use a better term than that.”

Mattie turned on him and poked him in the chest. “There’s an ick factor here, buster. She’s my sister, and you’re practically a brother. I don’t want to think of either of you in that way. But if I find out you hurt her—” She stopped, then leaned back from him. “Oh my God! You—the first night we went to the Club! I knew there was more than that kiss involved.”

“Lawrence,” Bryce interrupted before Mattie could elaborate further. “The when and where don’t concern me.” He looked over his wife’s head and met Mike’s gaze.

It wasn’t difficult to read his brother’s concern. Mike knew the importance of the Rite of First Claim. He’d known it when he stepped into the Club last night. He made it clear to Bryce that he wasn’t backing down. “She belongs to me.”

The change happened quickly. From one instant to the next, Bryce went from concerned older brother to master dominant. “There are responsibilities that go along with Rite of First Claim. Do you intend to live up to those?”

“Yes.”

Bryce still pushed. Mike recognized it for the test it was. “You recognize what you’re accepting and the duties you’re taking on?”

“I love her. I’ve always loved her. I chose the duties and responsibilities long before I invoked Rite of First Claim.”

“You’re going to have to break her.” Mattie’s quiet comment had both men turning to look at her.

While he’d been focused on his brother, Mattie had moved away from them to perch on the arm of the sofa. Beside him, Bryce shook his head.

“No, Lawrence—”

“I don’t want to break her, Mattie,” Mike assured her, although a part of him realized what his sister-in-law said might be true.

“Then you’ll lose.” Mattie shrugged. “Lyssa will never admit to her real feelings. She’ll never give up control, no matter how much she might want to.”

“There are methods of training that will show her the sense in giving up control,” Bryce offered as he moved to stand before his wife. He smoothed the loose curls away from her cheek and reminded her, “The pleasure isn’t in breaking the will of the submissive, love. It’s in guiding the sub in pushing past inner boundaries.”

Mattie turned her head and pressed a kiss into Bryce’s palm. Her eyes closed, and a contented smile lifted her lips. She leaned forward, her head resting against Bryce’s abdomen as she sighed, then pulled away. Looking up at her husband, she explained, “Lyssa and Mike aren’t like us, Master. I dreamed of being free to give control over to you. I yearned for it, ached to feel the connection between us. My sister is afraid.”

Mike fought the envy he felt as he watched Bryce and Mattie together. He wanted that for himself. He wanted that unity, that closeness, the absolute trust and devotion and love that his brother shared with his wife. He wanted it with Lyssa. Only with her. But as he listened to Mattie, he wondered if he’d ever convince his woman.

Mattie rose and wrapped her arms around Bryce’s waist. She held him close, her cheek resting against his chest. Watching Mike, she continued, “Lyssa needs you to control her, Mike. She needs to feel safe and loved and cherished by you, the way I feel with Bryce. But she doesn’t trust what she needs. She told me the heart lies. For her, giving in to the emotions, giving in to the temptations, submitting to the needs of her heart would be a living nightmare.”

Bryce’s hands, which had been slowly caressing along Mattie’s back, went still. He pulled her tight against him. “It’s dangerous, love.”

Mike agreed. “It could drive her away, Mattie.” He started to shake his head, unwilling to risk losing Lyssa, but at the same time knowing it might be his only way of reaching the woman he loved.

“You have to tear down the walls she’s used to protect herself, Mike.” Stepping away from Bryce, she moved to stand in front of Mike and set her hand over his heart. “You need to strip away the barriers and show her that the only protection she really needs is you. No matter what she’s ever said, I know Lyssa has always felt safe with you. She’s always trusted you to keep her safe.”

Mike had to disagree. He wasn’t about to alienate his only allies by telling them how badly he’d fucked up four years ago by putting his duty before Lyssa on the only date she’d agreed to. “No, Mattie. I don’t think so. She’s always run away. How does that equate to trust?”

Mattie grinned. “Running showed she could trust you to respect her wishes. If she thought there was any chance you wouldn’t do that, she’d’ve just cut your balls off and fed ’em to you the first time you asked her to pose nude.”

All three of them laughed, but the sound faded quickly. “I don’t know, Mattie. I love her. I could never harm her.”

“You’re not hurting her, Mike. You’re awakening her. She needs to realize she’s worthy of your love and honor and protection, but she’s going to fight you every step of the way.”

Bryce crossed the room to wrap his arms around Mattie’s waist. “Like I fought acknowledging how important my own feelings were for you?”

Mattie nodded, leaning back into Bryce’s hold. “She’s going to defy you and top from the bottom every opportunity she gets, Mike. You have to show her you’re strong enough to take on anything, including her, to keep her.”

“Anything including her and her past, right?” Mike felt the resolve building inside him. He could see what Mattie meant. There were things in their past that each of the Lawrence women had survived. Things that would have broken weaker people, male or female. It merely required he stake his claim and prove to Lyssa he meant to keep her. No matter what she threw at him.

“Mike, if you don’t intend it to be permanent, walk away now,” Bryce told him.

“I’m not walking away.”

Bryce held his gaze. “I swear, Mike, brother or not, you break her heart and once I finish beating you bloody, I’ll let Mattie have you.”

Mike remained quiet. It was useless to protest. If anyone’s heart was broken this time, it was most likely going to be his.

Chapter Six

Lyssa didn’t know how long Bryce would keep Mike occupied, but she was sure she’d be seeing him before nightfall. When he showed up at her house, she had to be ready. A look around her living room assured her nothing there could give away the plan that had sent her to the Club the evening before. The kitchen, on the other hand… She moved into the room and groaned at the fertility clinic literature she’d left scattered on the countertops and table.

She grumbled as she gathered up the papers, pamphlets, and fact sheets. “One problem with living alone: reading while eating over the sink tends to become a habit.”

The concerns that had sprung to mind during her visit with Mattie resurfaced. There was no arguing that Mike would demand she comply with a thirty-day obligatory training. A
zing
of heat flashed through her lower belly. At least her body looked forward to the coming confrontation.

If it were only about keeping herself safe, she’d have no problem rebuffing him. Much as she shuddered at the idea, she even contemplated using the secret of their lost child to drive him away permanently should Mike persist. There would be no reprieve, no going back, no future with him if he knew she’d kept news of something as elemental as his child from him.

But it wasn’t just about keeping her heart safe. Rite of First Claim, arcane a rule as it was, still meant something to the members of the Diablo Blanco Club, many of whom were her clients and had connections to the politicos, royalty of Tinsel Town, and social circles who purchased the gowns she designed and created.

More importantly, refusal would constitute an insult to Bryce and Mattie. The lifestyle they lived included the Club, and Lyssa refused to bring about negative talk for them. No, she’d have to accept his claim for thirty days, if only to protect her business and Bryce’s investment in it. Besides, she doubted Mike would even last the full month; he’d very likely get bored and jet off to take pictures after a few weeks.

Her fingertip absently traced the grinning face of a baby on the pamphlet she held. If Mike discovered her real purpose for going to the Club last night, the explosion would be tremendous. On the table, she spotted the small, five-inch-square laminated photo she had never quite been able to bring herself to destroy or even tuck away in the closet. Setting the pile of pamphlets and brochures aside, Lyssa eased into the chair and cradled the picture in one palm. The grainy black-and-white image blurred as tears welled in her eyes before she wiped them away.

Even four years later, she wondered what might have been. If her baby girl had lived, would she have had her blonde hair or Mike’s brown curls? Would their baby’s eyes have been brown like her daddy’s or the same blue as Lyssa’s?

Lyssa traced her fingers over the tiny whitish-grey blob in the center of the picture with the same fear and awe she had felt the day she’d watched the monitor in the doctor’s office when the ultrasound was performed. Twelve weeks after her first night with Mike. A week after he’d left, instead of staying to hear the important news she’d told him she wanted to talk with him about. And just as fast as the fluttering of her baby’s heartbeat, the fear and awe turned to pain.

A loud pounding against her door startled Lyssa from her thoughts. With shaky fingers, she wiped at the tears welling in her eyes before she pushed back her chair and rose. It wasn’t difficult to guess her visitor’s identity. Before she left the kitchen, she scooped the papers, brochures, and pamphlets off the table and secured them in the catchall drawer at the end of the counter. She gently laid the ultrasound image on top before closing the drawer and heading for the living room.

She would make Mike see reason. Eventually he would realize the feelings he had for her couldn’t last. He had been with other women, at least one she was sure of, since their first time at the Club. In her mind it was the same old tune, just different words—not worthy, unlovable—eventually he’d realize that and leave.

But it was the stubborn little voice deep in her heart that tried to undermine her resolve. The kernel of hope that swelled and grew, spreading sensations and emotions throughout her body. Considering what she’d learned from Ben and Vance about the Rite of First Claim, Lyssa found it difficult to stifle the building anticipation the thought of Mike’s impending demands kindled.

The secret part of her that yearned to give in to her emotions and trust that Mike truly loved her fantasized about him storming her home, playing the Neanderthal, and dragging her off to the bedroom to teach her who her master was. And like every other time she indulged the dreams, verse two began to play in her head:
Parents wished you’d never been born; first boyfriend dumped you once he slept with you; college boyfriend didn’t even bother with sex before humiliating you. Even the first photographer you hired to take pictures of your designs proved untrustworthy. Cop a clue girl—you and love ain’t gonna happen.

Taking a deep breath, she focused her thoughts. Rite of First Claim. That’s why he was here. Her concession couldn’t be too swift. If Mike really thought he wanted her, he’d presume she’d balk. Like always. She smiled. Perhaps conceding easily would throw him off, make it easier—

Mike’s fist connected with the panels again, and this time Lyssa was ready. She strode to the front door and pulled it open.

“We need to talk.” Dressed in jeans, a dark green T-shirt, and battered running shoes, neither heat nor humor flavored his voice. His cool brown eyes gave away nothing of what he was thinking.

Lyssa ignored the flutter of arousal his appearance engendered. Playing the role she knew he expected, she hesitated, “I don’t think—”

Mike shook his head and moved closer, edging Lyssa out of the way so he could enter. “It’s in your best interest as well as mine, Lys.”

“Mike, this is not a good idea.” Lyssa eased away from him, allowing him to loosen her grip on the door and shut it behind him. “I think we should just agree to forget about—”

Mike dropped his gaze to the tiled floor beneath their feet. He crossed his arms over his chest as the overlong dark waves drifted across his forehead to shadow his face, leaving only the firm line of his whisker-rough jaw and tempting mouth visible.

Nerves jumped in her belly. Lyssa eased a few steps closer to the kitchen, her attention never leaving the steady rise and fall of Mike’s chest as he seemed to meditate on what he wanted to say. When his head rose, she could read the look in his eyes. Lyssa stifled the urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. Each time he looked at her that way, it got harder and harder to turn her back on him.