Page 21 of The Devil's Spawn

He held out a hand. “Come on,” he said, hauling me to my feet. After he removed my cashmere sweater and shed his overcoat, he ordered me to prepare for him in the basement. I’d known that was where I’d end up tonight, but a chill still tingled down my spine.

“Yes, Master.” As I moved in the direction of his dungeon, limbs weak, I spied him pulling at his tie from the corner of my eye. Because he was eager to dress down to punish me? Or because the tension spiraling between us was choking him? I unlocked the door to the basement, switched on the light, and descended the stairs, chewing over his reaction the whole way.

I was Gage’s only real weakness—something I failed to remember between the rituals and rigid expectations. He’d imprinted his power and mastery onto my soul, and I often forgot that underneath the confident veneer of dominance and control lived a vulnerable man with family issues.

And ex-girlfriend issues.

How could I prove to him that I wasn’t going anywhere?

As I unzipped my dress and let it slide to the floor, the answer to that question tormented me. The only way to prove my loyalty was on my knees, unwavering in my surrender to his disciplinary decisions, no matter how intense the degradation and pain. I unclasped my bra, stepped outside the puddle of Haute Couture at my feet, and kneeled, preparing to speak Gage’s language in the form of “yes, Master.”

About fifteen minutes later, the door creaked open, and his loud footfalls brought him down the stairs. He walked with heavy feet as if the next hour or two weighed on his shoulders as heavily as they did mine. A single glance at his expression—eyes narrowed, jaw tense, and a pasty hue to his skin—and I knew I was too late. Katherine had gotten to him. As if to confirm my suspicion, he tossed a photo onto the floor in front of me.

“That just hit my inbox.” He gestured to the incriminating evidence. “Is this what you need to tell me about?”

A glossy photo stared me in the face. Though Ian and I sat with plenty of space between us, our identical caught-in-the-headlights expressions made us look guilty. So did the fact that we were sitting on a bed in a hotel room.

“I can explain, Master.”

“Can you, now?” He arched a contemptuous brow. “You said you weren’t unfaithful. But Kayla,” he said, crouching to confront me at eye level. “As far as I’m concerned, you cheated the instant you had any form of contact with him.”

“It wasn’t intentional, Master.” God, I despised how tiny my voice sounded. How wobbly and terrified. The disconcerting part was thewhyof my fear. I wasn’t afraid of getting punished—that was inevitable, and I’d accept it. No, what had my gut turning was his reaction to that picture. He wasn’t only angry, but his entire body exuded betrayal, from the strain of his voice to the devastation in his eyes whenever his attention fell on the image of me with his brother.

“Wasn’tintentional?” he said, rising to his full height. “Let me guess—someone kidnapped you and dropped you on that fucking bed with him. How convenient.”

“I went there looking for you!” I squeezed my eyes shut, horrified at losing my cool. Raising my voice to my Master was never tolerated, a fact that was abundantly clear when I lifted my lids and found Gage rifling through the drawer where he kept my least favorite things. He strode toward me with a ball gag clutched in his hand. His breaths heaved in and out, and his massive chest expanded with every draw of air.

“Explain yourself.” He dangled the humongous gag in front of my trembling lips.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to explain. Recounting Katherine’s unwelcome visit and how I’d fallen for her bullshit…no, how I’d doubtedhim…was almost more than I could stand.

“You’re only making this harder on yourself,” he warned.

The need to stall rose inside me, and I did my best to squash it. Submit.Submit, submit, submit.I chanted the word but finding the right way to explain how I’d essentially let my doubt tear a gaping hole into the fabric of our trust…that was easier in theory.

He exhaled on an exasperated sigh. “You’ve got sixty seconds before you lose the privilege of speaking.”

His threat busted through my resistance. “After I left your office on Wednesday, Katherine was waiting for me in the driveway.” The lies the bitch had spewed seemed thin to me now. I should have seen right through them and had I not reacted with too-quick judgement born of emotional overload, I would have recognized the trap in her accusation.

I blinked, and a tear squiggled down my face. “She said you were going to meet her at the Hilton. She left a keycard.” Meeting his eyes, I silently pleaded for understanding. “But Ian showed up right after I did. He said he got a message from you. He thought he was meeting you at the hotel.” Pissed at myself, I dashed away the moisture collecting on my cheeks. “She set us up, and I fell for it. I’m sorry, Master.”

With a long sigh, Gage dropped the ball gag and paced a few feet away, turning his back on me for a few seconds that were long enough to ratchet up my anxiety. Eventually, he turned around, dragging both hands down his face. “Did you touch him?”

And that’s when I wavered again. The truth clogged my throat, but if I didn’t come clean, he’d think the worst. “I…I hugged him.”

“Why?”

“I was shocked to see him, and…” My stomach turned, making me ill. My reasons were unimportant to Gage, as I had no business laying a finger on Ian Kaplan.

“And?” he prompted.

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“You were happy to see him alive.” His tone was so matter-of-fact that I wondered if he had mind-reading capabilities.

“Yes, Master.” God, how my cheeks burned with shame. I shouldn’t feel guilty for finding joy in knowing that someone I cared about was alive and healthy, but I did. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”

“I appreciate your honesty, baby.”

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