Page 102 of Lesson In Faith

She shifted, squirming a little as she eyed up his outstretched hand. “W-What would you use on me?”

“Would you like me to show you?”

Trust and curiosity finally won over the wariness. There was nothing quite as gratifying as seeing her take the few steps between them to set her hand in his, or the way her small fingers curled around his bigger ones without hesitation.

He brought them to his mouth, kissing them as he silently blessed God for her.

“Do you trust me to take you down there?” he asked quietly, letting the words whisper over her knuckles. When she blinked at him, he tilted his head toward the noisy purgatory below.

“I… Oh.” Craning her neck, she peered over the rail from a distance as though it might collapse if she got any closer. Her skin was pale under the mood lighting, her lower lip swollen and dented where her teeth had been chewing it. “Do I have to go?”

“Not at all.”

She mulled that over, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“I—what?” Stunned, he barely refrained from gaping at her like an idiot.

She tightened her hold on his hand, much like a scared child, and squared her shoulders as she explained the reasoning for her decision. “You said I don’t have to go, which means you won’t make me. When something is important to you, you’re careful not to push me into it.”

Elias chuckled. “She’s got your number, Merrick.”

If he needed any indication of who instigated this impromptu visit, that fucker was his prime suspect, Merrick thought darkly. The goddamn sadistic Brit was a teddy bear in disguise, playing freaking matchmaker.

Unimpressed, especially when it could have backfired irrevocably, Merrick tightened his jaw. “We’ll meet you back at the bar in an hour. If you’re not there, Eli, make no mistake—I will track you down. You and I need to talk about motherfucking boundaries.”

The bastard had the gall to smile wolfishly. “I look forward to it.”

It probably wasn’t wise to antagonize his boss, but Merrick wasn’t going to let him intimidate him either. They were going to have words about what was and was not appropriate when it came to Tamsyn, starting with bringing her to the goddamn dungeon while he was flogging the hell out of another woman’s ass.

Evander cleared his throat and picked up their mutual wife to sit on his hip, gently smacking her hand down as she jabbed two fingers at her own eyes before redirecting them at Merrick. “Don’t threaten the angry Dom when he’s mad at your husband, babygirl. Not the smartest idea, even for a brave warrior like you.”

As he dutifully began to herd the group toward the door, Callie’s accusatory gaze remained on Merrick, silently warning him of dire consequences if he messed up her new friend. She had a tendency to grow teeth and claws around impact toys, often launching to a sub’s defense if she felt it necessary.

Tabitha, on the other hand, didn’t need any encouragement to leave; she was yanking and tugging at Grit to get him moving. Her expression was bored, yet a glimpse of those frosty blue eyes reflected panic.

Utterly, completely in love, Sierra giggled and skipped along the gallery beside Mack, happier than Merrick had ever seen her. Marriage suited her—now he hoped she got the pregnancy she absolutely deserved.

Merrick and Tamsyn followed behind them, pausing at the top of the steps as their friends disappeared through the doors.

“Ready to dabble your toes in the water, little owl?”

She inhaled slowly. “Just so you know, I can’t swim.”

“Down here, drowning is a lot more fun.”

*

Tamsyn

Descending the stairway to hell was the most surreal experience of her life.

With each step, it felt as though she was leaving behind normality. Regretting the decision wasn’t really an option—she’d seen how comfortable Merrick was here in the shadows, how he belonged in this place, and she could admit—in the privacy of her own mind—it had been arousing to watch him lose himself in the music, the rhythm, the act.

While she didn’t envy the woman her thick welts and painful bruises, Tamsyn wanted to understand what the next step of her bond with Merrick might be. There was no desire to have her bottom beaten so emphatically—after all, her father had given her several tastes of that over the years—but she couldn’t deny her yearning to be closer to Merrick.

Nerves rattled under her skin as the noises grew louder—shouts, whimpers, screams, crying, begging rising above the crack of whips, jangle of chains, smack of flesh on flesh.

It was music everyone down here was dancing to in their own way, contributing to it.

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