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Giving the tip of her nose a quick brush with his own, he leaned back, then lifted his hand in a hail when Grit stepped through the doors. “Oh shit, Tabitha looks like she’s about to take him apart.”
Sierra switched her attention from her tingling lips and needy sex to the couple whose bond was visible straining between them. She frowned, studying them more carefully—Grit’s grip on Tabitha’s hand was firm but gentle, but the white-blonde sub was resisting every step, subtly at first.
At first were the operative words.
Something was wrong, Sierra thought. Really wrong. She knew how the two usually interacted, and though she had balls bigger than a stallion, Tabitha was normally in tune with her Dom. While violence shimmered around her on a regular basis—not surprisingly, given her choice of profession—now it was seething around her like a living blanket of snakes.
“I said I’m not doing it!” Tabitha’s voice snapped over the hum of conversation and music. There was a crack in it, not temper but something more… distraught. “Rory, you know what—”
The dirty blond Dom sighed and turned, releasing her hand to clasp both of his against her face. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones as he bent slightly to murmur something, and Sierra realized that whatever the problem stemmed from, it was Tabitha struggling.
Shaking her head, Tabitha yanked away from him, shoving her hands against his chest and sending him back a step. There was no color in her face, accentuating the pale blue of her eyes, and making a sound that was part fury, part something else, she stormed away toward the alcove where the bathrooms were located.
A few moments later, the sharp crack of a door meeting a wall echoed.
Liam winced. “Fuck, bet that left a mark.”
“That’s a firecracker and a half,” Mack commented.
“You have no idea. Shit, Grit’s going after her.” Liam rose and whistled sharply, cutting through the sudden rise of volume in the room. He gestured Grit over when he got his attention, then walked over to meet the other Dom halfway.
“Is there a problem?” Mack asked Sierra.
“Club rules. No Doms in the women’s facilities; it’s a safe space. Only Dommes and subs allowed.” She huffed out a breath. Knowing what it felt like to be scared and overwhelmed, even ifshe didn’t have Tabitha’s balls to balance the scales, she couldn’t leave someone in distress. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Now’s probably not a good time, pixie.”
“Now’s the perfect time.” She stood, trying to summon some courage.
Tabitha was a scary bitch at the best of times; downright terrifying when she was in a rage. Her brother, Jasper, was more controlled with his emotions, but his temper burned like liquid nitrogen.
“Sierra, let a Domme handle it.”
She winced, imagining Ericka or Violet facing down the distressed submissive. From what she’d heard, Tabitha was not one for talking, and any display of authority that didn’t come from Grit was basically waving a red flag in her face.
Tabitha’s parents had been monsters.
Her father was the one who murdered Wyatt.
“I’ll be fine,” she told Mack, though her voice trembled slightly. There was zero guarantee that anything would be fine, but she knew without a doubt that a Domme would only make things worse. “Give me ten minutes before you send in the cavalry, okay?”
He hissed between his teeth. “I’m giving you thirty seconds before I tell Liam exactly what you’re doing.”
“I need to pee,” she said innocently, sliding across the seat.
“Bullshit.”
Because she didn’t trust him to count to thirty in three seconds, Sierra cut across behind Liam’s back and took the long way round to the alcove, trying to keep her head down and not look suspicious while doing so.
Damn it, her hands were shaking.
And her legs.
Everything, really.
She heard a short, furious scream, then something smashed as she approached the door to the women’s bathroom. Did she really want to go in there? Probably not, but her sensitivity to other people’s pain wouldn’t allow her to tuck tail and run.
Liam was going to kill her if Tabitha didn’t do it first.
