Page 7 of Their Domme

A cry from downstairs had me back to the situation at hand. I’d question all of them back-to-back then clean up before heading into the city. Before I met up with anyone, I needed to fix myself up. Haircut, new clothes, a spa day for self-care so I could introduce everyone to the ruthless killer I had been shaped into. I always thought motherhood would make someone more caring, empathetic, soft… I was wrong. Any morals I used to have, any limitations, they had gone out the window. Now, my only priority was to protect everyone that mattered to me.

Heading back downstairs, a small smile curled my face. I didn’t need to see it to know it was terrifying. I felt cold, clear headed, as I ignored the body parts tossed around the room and headed for the locked door. It was time to get more creative because I had better places to be than sitting here with these freaks. My stalker had started a battle, and I doubted they were ready for the hellfire I was going to rain down on them.

They wanted a fight?

I was going to bring them war.

Nicholette

Sunday

The building was a typical brick condo building, or that’s what it looked like on the outside, but I knew that behind those rows of small windows was the infamous F?rstner Family. Finishing the last bit of my coffee, I approached the door and reached for the security pad, punching in the pin while I graced the camera with a smirk that was all me. I let myself inside the building.Em should really get that changed.

Industrial loft-style was the first thing that came to mind as I looked around at the exposed brick and ventilation along the ceiling. It hadn’t changed since the last time I had been here. Light hardwood flooring flowed throughout the space, and the only sound in the building was my heels clicking on the hardwood as I walked toward the kitchen. The room was huge, the kitchen featuring a sprawling island with modern cabinets and appliances that would make any Ikea catalog jealous. I hummed, throwing away my coffee as I settled on a barstool at the island, content to wait for someone to find me.I wonder if they have any food…I’d had a bite to eat in between my makeover and purchasing new clothes, but I was so fucking hungry—again.

After I sat there for twenty minutes or so, I said fuck it and got up, rifling through the cabinets. Of course, I didn’t find anything that I could eat without having to cook.Motherfuckers.I let out an annoyed sigh just as the front door opened. Even, measured footsteps wandered through the house as if looking for something or someone, but the cadence was familiar, so I didn’t bother hiding. I had a cocky, taunting smile on my face by the time Blake entered the kitchen with a grim expression and gun at the ready.

“You brat,” they said by way of greeting, lowering the gun in their hand.

Not the least bit shy, I gave them a once, then twice-over, seeing how much they had changed since I last saw them. Long brown hair was cut short into something similar to a pixie with an undercut. The bit of hair on top was slicked back, giving the illusion of a more masculine cut. They had on a big black AC/DC t-shirt and gray sweatpants that looked way too fucking hot for the weather outside. One could probably say the same for my black pantsuit, but I needed to look good more than I needed to feel cool right now. The clothes made me feel more put together and in control, which was something I desperately needed.

“You look good, Blake,” I told them honestly. Their brown eyes were sparkling with good humor as they approached me, switching the safety on then tucking their gun somewhere I couldn’t see under their shirt. “But you weren’t who I was expecting to run into, at least not yet.”

“Emmerich is on his way,” Blake replied, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. They squeezed me for a minute before leaving it there. “I’m saving my questions until he’s here, but I have plenty by the way.”

“I’m sure you do, and Em, too. Not to mention my guys, who I’m sure have contacted you both.”

“Your Russians are dedicated,” Blake said with a huff of exasperation. “Sacha and Vas both showed up here as soon as we were back from Seattle,demandinganswers from Emmerich and me. Very bold, I’ll give them that. Not that we had anything to share with them since you had gone rogue.”

I swallowed hard, hating the tears stinging my eyes at just the mention of their names. Fucking hormones were jerks. “Sounds about right,” I rasped, clearing my throat as I pulled away from their side. “I need food. Sooner rather than later. You don’t want to see the rage of a pregnant woman needing to eat.”

Their gaze flicked down to my still-flat stomach, then up again, before nodding a few times. “Sit down. How the fuck you’re even wearing heels is beyond me.”

“It makes my legs look longer.” I shrugged, glad they were letting me change the subject. “As you know, they are one of my best features.”

“That and your psychotic mind,” a smooth voice said. I turned, then froze. A man with shoulder-length wavy blond hair stared at me with intense blue eyes.Atlas. He looked so fucking familiar, yet not. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why that was. Maybe it was his longer hair? I could be reading into things though, or it could be hormones. I’d only met him a handful of times before he ghosted like Blake had.

I hadn’t heard him enter the room, him or the men behind him. One looked to be almost thirty, with dark buzzed hair and haunted light blue eyes that studied me with equal parts curiosity and suspicion. Two older men were behind him, near the entrance to the living room, watching me carefully. Both had dark brown, almost black hair, but the one that was slightly older had hints of gray.

“I’m glad you appreciate my favorite asset.” I moved my focus back to Atlas, who laughed sharply at that. “Are they all with you, Blake?”

“Yes. Unlike you, I don’t need to collect every person I come across, so that’s all of them,” Blake deadpanned, and I laughed, not the least bit insulted. I mean, they were right. Ihadbeen adding to my group of psychos at a rate that should have alarmed me.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” I shrugged then walked around the island, settling onto the stool I had left just a few minutes ago. “But why would I complain? They fuck me like they want to kill me. Girl’s gotta have standards.”

“Has one of them actually tried to kill you during sex?” Atlas asked, claiming an open seat beside me before giving me a quick side hug. I leaned into it, then pulled back, meeting his curious gaze. His blue eyes were intent on me, but I could hear Blake moving around in the kitchen while the men behind Atlas shifted a bit.

I hummed, thinking it over, and shook my head after a minute. “Actuallykill me? No. Could they have, though? Hell yes, and the possibility alone is delicious. Like I said, standards, Atlas. If you aren’t bleeding and bruised by the end, what’s the point?”

“You think they offer a group therapy discount for the mafia?” Atlas asked, making the older men and Blake chuckle. Even the guy with buzzed hair smiled a little bit.

“I’m not mafia.” I waved a hand, dismissing his joke. “I’d probably scare them away with my issues. Besides, if I work through everything, where will my edge of mystery go? Do I get an introduction?”

Blake, who had been going through the cabinets and fridge, getting food together, turned and pointed to each man. “Atlas, you know. Wulf is the one trying to figure out how to ask me who you are. Robin, beside him, has figured it out and is trying not to show that he has figured it out. Conrad is the one with the buzzed hair. Keep some boundaries there. Guys, Nicholette.”

I flipped my hair over my shoulder as I rolled my eyes. “I see your introductions haven’t changed since we last saw each other. Hey, guys.”

“How else should I have introduced you to Emmerich?” Blake asked, laughter in their voice as they looked to the side.

---