Page 1 of Thorns Laced In Blood

Part I

Chapter 1

Saul

Club X was empty, which made me a little uncomfortable about why Dom would pick the club to meet me in. The black centre stage had all the BDSM paraphernalia on it, but it was a different theme from the last time I had been here. I preferred the lively atmosphere to the current foreboding, eerie one. I smiled, remembering the live shows on the stage. Grayson had given us all quite the show with his pet pony. After my reprimand for taking things too far, I never returned.

“Saul, you made it. I appreciate you taking the time,” he said, but we both knew I begrudged being here.

I glanced at the bar and saw Dominic behind the bar, helping himself to a bottle of top-shelf whiskey. He didn't look like Dr Dominic King when he was in the club, and today was no different.

“I was intrigued by your unexpected call. I thought you retired on some obscure Island with your wife,” I said with a smile as I approached the bar.

He’d poured two glasses of whiskey but left the bottle on the counter as he left the bar to greet me. I shook his hand in a tight grip and shook it because it was damn good to see him. The trio of friends were well-known in London but not always reputable, which is why I liked them. Dom, Aaron and Grayson had no airs and graces, no matter how wealthy they were.

“Yes, a friend asked for my professional opinion on a patient, but it required a face-to-face visit so I could assess the situation first-hand,” he said, gripping my hand just as tightly. “How’s life treating you?”

I released his hand to shrug.

“Same old shit but just a different day,” I said before I picked up the glasses.

He nodded and led us towards the VIP private section. Once seated, I began to wonder why he called me.

“How’s the wife?” I asked as I recalled briefly meeting her at Grayson’s wedding.

His face softened, and his smile grew wider as he sat down and placed the bottle on the table. I passed him his glass and downed mine because I had a gut feeling that I wouldn't like whatever news he was about to give me. I enjoyed the burn, but that shit was smooth. He raised his eyebrow at me but began to unscrew the bottle to top my glass up again.

Yup, the fucker was up to no good.

“She is great, pregnant with our third baby,” he said with a smirk before he poured me a larger amount from the bottle.

After glancing at the black bottle, I noticed it was a Glenfiddich 23-year-old blend. I preferred my Macallan, but it wasn't too shoddy.

“Congratulations. What’s this all about, Dom?” I asked as I picked my glass up while he took a civilised sip on his.

His face hardened, but he remained silent before he took a large gulp of his drink.

Okay, not quite so civilised. Something was wrong.

“You used to take power plays to the edge of the limit to the point Grayson had to keep an eye on your activities, yet you never tipped over,” he said.

“I did in Grayson’s eyes,” I said, watching him wave his hand to dismiss my transgression.

I frowned in confusion. It had taken me many years to grapple with myself after leaving my position in the army, and part ofmy recovery was through my dark inclinations. My outlet was far more sadistic than anyone knew, but I’d always held myself in check. Dom must have been observing me with a keen eye. Creepy.

We were all dominant, but our individual tastes were nuanced. I’d had a few group sessions in the club, and my past training made me much more aware of my surroundings and the people around me. I could read people better than most. His face relaxed a fraction as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. While he was focused on his phone, I took a swig from my glass.

“What do you see?” he asked, sliding his phone across the dark wooden table.

I gave him a sharp look before I put my glass on the table to pick up the phone.

There was a photo of a young girl sitting on the edge of a white bed. The walls were white, and the clinically severe look of the room told me it was a hospital. Her expression was devoid of emotion, and her eyes had a vacant look. I placed two fingers on the screen and spread them to zoom into her eyes.

Her blue eyes were like chips of ice, tinged with black around her iris, which matched the dead black of her pupil. Her blonde hair was open and straggly. There were dark circles under her eyes, but from the picture, I could tell her body was rigid and tense.

Her lips were pursed together, but I could tell from their shape that if she was relaxed, they would be full and plump. I glanced at her light blue eyes again before I pushed against the screen to minimise it again. My stomach churned because I would recognise that blank look in a heartbeat.

She made herself look smaller than she was. My jaw clenched when I saw the variety of marks on her arms. I didn't need tozoom in on them to know where they were from. She was clad in a white T-shirt and black bottoms. I’d been so mesmerised by her eyes that I missed the small scar poking out from under her hair.

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