Masks of a Tiger (5 page)

Neeve
took a deep
breath and treated the blond beefcake of a man leaning against the wall outside
the non-descript entrance to Club Ink to her best stare. He'd watched her
approach through hooded eyes, a lazy smile playing round his lips, yet despite
his relaxed stance,
Neeve
got the distinct impression
of danger. He looked ready to pounce, and sure enough he straightened up as she
stepped closer.

Light amber eyes
assessed her, and
Neeve
swallowed past the sudden
lump in her throat. Was it a condition of employment that every male member of
Club Ink was at least six foot three, drop dead gorgeous, and built like the
proverbial outhouse?

And why the hell did
they all seem to have an obsession with sniffing her? It was not as though she
smelled. She had a shower before she left!
Neeve
suppressed a groan and waited for the visual sniff inspection to be over. When
he seemed satisfied, he stepped back with a smile.

"And who would you
be,
little one?" His insolent grin widened at her sharp
intake of breath.
Little one?
Condescending,
much?

"I'm no one's
little
one,
thank you, and if you've quite finished sniffing me like a dog in heat,
I would appreciate you letting me in. I have an invite."

The menacing growl
rumbling from the man's broad chest made her clutch
Grisha's
jacket a bit tighter, even as her female senses drooled just a little.

"A dog in
heat?"
He pinned her in place with those amazing eyes of his,
which seemed to change to a glowing yellow for an instant, before they bled
back to amber. Again
Neeve
was reminded of a
predator's stance as the man circled her slowly. She turned with him, mindful
to not turn her back. At least that's what she remembered from the self-defense
classes she'd attended. They'd had a rather unusual session on what to do when
presented with a dangerous animal.

Keep them in your line
of vision, but do not look at them directly. Act submissive.

She almost laughed out
loud at that. Act submissive. Acting she could do, however it didn't mean she
believed Nathan's preposterous claims, regardless of how her heart rate
increased at the thought of submitting to
Grisha
.

A gust of warm air
behind her, as the door to Club Ink opened, alerted her to the fact that they
were not on their own anymore.

"
Jordayn
, what would appear to be the problem?" Ink's
unmistakable deep voice held a hint of annoyance and right now was music to her
ears. She really didn't like the look of this
Jordayn
.

He stopped pacing.

"This little human
called me a dog." He snarled the words, and Ink laughed.
Neeve
spun around in amazement, and
Jordayn
grumbled something under his breath, something she couldn't quite catch. Ink
clearly did, though, because his amusement fled as quickly as it had appeared.

"Watch it, fleabag.
Neeve
here is under
Grisha's
protection and by proxy under my protection, too. Show her the respect she
deserves."

"Yes, boss."
Jordayn
bowed his head and flashed
Neeve
a smile. "She's not collared. How was I supposed to know?"

Neeve's
fingers
itched to wipe that smile off his face. Ink put his hand on her arm as though
he knew what she was thinking and moved her behind him. He, too, seemed to be
growling low in his throat, and
Neeve
took a step
back away from all the male posturing happening right in front of her.
Jordayn
spread his legs and crouched slightly. Had he
been
a dog, no doubt his fur would have stood on end.

"Since when
are
uncollared
subs fair game
in
this club?" Ink's low growl rolled over
Neeve
,
and she backed away further, right into a hard, extremely warm, male chest.

Trikus
came out of
nowhere and drew her into the entrance of the club. His bulk stopped her from
seeing past him. From the amount of growling going on out there, you'd have
been forgiven for thinking a pack of dogs had taken up residence outside the
club. Or perhaps something else entirely…
Neeve
had
heard the ridiculous rumors circulating about Club Ink of course, but that's
all they were. Had they been true, Estelle would have told her.

Shifters just didn't
exist. This was a kink club. No doubt some folks here liked to dress up in
animal costumes, and that's how those rumors had started. And the fact that
Trikus's
eyes seemed to glow for an instant, before he
averted his head, was just a trick of the light.

Something or someone hit
the metal entrance door hard, and
Trikus
whistled
under his breath. He winked at
Neeve
. "You're
here five minutes, and you've caused trouble already. I almost pity
Grisha
."

"What the hell is
that supposed to mean?"
Neeve's
curt question
was left unanswered, as Ink
entered,
his expression
murderous.
Neeve
straightened her shoulders and
wished she was anywhere but here. Ink pissed like this could not be good. She
knew that much.

"
Trikus
."
He bellowed the name
with whip-like precision, and
Trikus
snapped to
attention. "
Jordayn
needs another training
session it seems. If you can't get your cousin to understand the simplest rules,
he will be out on his furry ass."

"Yes, boss, I'll
sort it. It won't happen again."

"Make sure it
doesn't. If your kind weren't such good security detail…" Ink didn't
finish the sentence. He didn't have to. The threat came through loud and clear,
and once again
Neeve
got the distinct impression that
she was missing something here.

When Ink turned his
attention on her she wanted the ground to swallow her up. He raised one eyebrow
looking at the jacket she was still clutching to herself like a lifeline.

"I … I—"
Neeve
cleared her throat to get her voice to work. Being
under Ink's close scrutiny proved disconcerting to say the least. As were the
images on the row of TV screens she'd spotted to one side. It seemed Club Ink
had private rooms. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she pressed her thighs together
to relieve the sudden throbbing in her pussy. What the hell was wrong with her
anyway? She ought to be appalled at those images playing themselves out in
front of her, not turned on.

"I came to return
Grisha's
jacket. Is he here?"
Neeve
tried again. Her voice was a breathy porn star imitation of its usual cadence,
but at least she managed to form the words this time.

Ink studied her for the
longest time, and
Neeve
tried not to fidget. He made
her nervous. The shadows were so deep in this part of the club she couldn't see
her feet, and only half his face was turned into the light. You'd think they
would have better lighting. Then again, maybe that was a blessing in disguise.
A quick look over her shoulder proved the point. A long bar was situated at the
opposite side to the club entrance, the open air space separating them,
interspersed with secluded booths, and various play stations. The one closest
to the entrance had a naked sub tied to a spanking bench whilst her
Domme
fucked her ass with a strap-on dildo.
 
Judging by the moans the sub was making she
was enjoying the experience, but
Neeve
suppressed a
wince and hastily looked away.

Yes, low lighting was
probably a very good thing indeed.

"
Grisha
is busy at the moment." Ink smiled when her
eyes darted to the CCTV screens involuntarily. She let out a breath of relief
when she didn't spot the tall Russian in any of the scenes taking place. Of
course he could be on the floor anywhere in the club doing God only
knew
what.
Neeve
frowned at the
thought, and Ink chuckled.

"You have a very
expressive face,
Neeve
. He's not busy in that sense.
He's preparing for a fire play demonstration on stage. I'm going to have to
join him, so
Trikus
here will be your escort, to make
sure you stay out of trouble."

"I don't need an
escort. I'm not staying, and I'm
not
trouble, damn it. I'm merely here
to return his jacket, that's all."

Ink smiled again and
leant down to cup her chin.
Trikus
moved behind her,
and sandwiched between the two of them she had nowhere to go. Ink's fingers dug
in just enough to hurt and to focus her sole attention on him.

"I
know
you're trouble, girl. I also know that you could have simply sent that jacket
back by messenger if that was your only aim. Do not assume you're talking to
one of the boys you're used to wrapping ‘round your little finger. In this club
you will obey my rules, or
Trikus
will paddle that
insolent ass of yours, no matter what
Grisha
says.
Heaven knows what he sees in you."

 
He leant closer still and inhaled. The action
made
Neeve's
stomach flip flop
wildly,
and the smile he gave her when he straightened up send a shiver down her spine.

"I meant what I
said out there. You're under my protection, and now
Trikus's
until
Grisha
can deal with you. So, be a good little
girl, sign the agreement that
Trikus
will give you,
and do as you're told. No one will touch a sub under my protection." He
slid his hand down to her throat and squeezed. For one awful second
Neeve
couldn't breathe, until he relaxed his hand and
smiled again. "Remember that when you're thinking of getting bratty. Who
will protect you from me?"

Chapter Four

"Ink, Sir?"
Cherie's hesitant voice was music to
Neeve's
ears
right now, and she watched in amazement as his whole demeanor changed. He
released his hold on her, and
Neeve
gulped in a much
needed breath of air. She hadn't dared breathe under Ink's scrutiny.
Trikus's
hands slid round her waist, and she leant into
him, grateful for the support, as her knees felt like jelly. Why ever had she
thought setting foot in the lion's den would be a good idea? She couldn't do
this.

"Yes, baby
girl?" Inks face softened as he said the words, addressing Cherie. The
unexpected endearment rolled off his tongue like a caress, and Cherie lit up.
It was the only way to describe it. Even with her head bowed in submission you
couldn't miss the huge smile lighting up her face. The curvy and heavily
tattooed brunette sank to her knees, and put her hands on Ink's thighs.

"You seem tense,
Sir. Can I help you relax?"
Neeve
resisted the
urge to roll her eyes. Something about the connection these two shared, evident
in the way Ink crouched down and framed her face in his large
hands,
stopped the smart comment she normally would have
made.
 
He guided Cherie to her feet and
dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"Not now, baby
girl. I have to be on stage to help
Grisha
."
Cherie pouted, and Ink tapped her ass twice. Rather than the harsh punishment
Neeve
would have expected him to deliver, this was an
almost playful swat, and Cherie giggled.

"Don't push your
luck, sub." Ink growled the words, but he smiled at Cherie, and she stood
on tiptoes and whispered something to him. His smile deepened, and he then
looked toward
Neeve
. His eyes narrowed, and he
laughed.

"You may be right,
baby girl. Time will tell I guess. I need to go.
Help
Trikus
to keep her out of trouble, will you?"
He kissed Cherie, and she melted into his long frame. By the time he released
her she was breathing heavily, and Ink had to adjust his trousers before he
strode away.

Cherie's deep brown eyes
locked with
Neeve's
, and she got the distinct
impression that she was passing some sort of silent assessment.

"You okay, doll?
Ink can be a bit overwhelming when you're not used to him."

"You think?"
Neeve
couldn't keep the hint of sarcasm out of her voice.

Trikus
chuckled
into her shoulder, and Cherie frowned.

"You're Estelle's
outrageous friend, right? I recall seeing you briefly at our ceremony."
Cherie paused, smiled, and touched the heavy collar around her neck. This one
wasn't delicate like Estelle's. Cherie's collar was a wide leather band secured
with a small padlock, and it positively screamed ownership.

"You really want to
watch that sassy mouth of yours, doll, before someone decides to shut it for
you in ways you may not like." Cherie smiled as she said the words, but
they held an edge of steel, and
Neeve
thought it
wisest to keep quiet.