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It was akin to watching a ping-pong match, Sierra thought. The words were the ball, the opposing battle of wills were the paddles.
Her heart went out to Grit; he had a truly difficult choice to make. As the Dom, he needed to weigh up the cost to his sub, whichever direction he chose. There was the risk of damagingher physically, emotionally, psychologically if the scene went sideways. But what were the consequences if he refused her?
The trust would falter, Sierra calculated. Tabitha was putting a hell of a lot of trust in him, so that would suffer. Her self-confidence, her ability to ask for something she wanted or needed would certainly take a nasty hit.
It took courage to demand a certain kind of intimacy when she understood it came with pain; a deeper level of bravery when she’d suffered so badly at the hands of others.
Liam shifted slightly when Grit opened his eyes again, reaching down to take Sierra’s damp hand in his. Warm breath skated over her ear when he bent and murmured, “She’s going to need you, minx. We won’t get her through this without you.”
Well hell, if she didn’t have performance anxiety before, she sure did now. As it suddenly occurred to her how much responsibility she was carrying, how entrenched her role in this had become, she felt her knees buckle.
Now wasnotthe time to wuss out, she admonished herself sternly. No one made her volunteer herself or the guys for a joint scene—she’d done it because a friend needed solid support at a difficult time.
Shaking off the stupid weak moment, Sierra composed herself, shoved her Little back before she could slide into position, and nodded. “This is what family does for each other. Our family, at least. I won’t let her down, Liam.”
“Never thought you would.”
The next thing she knew, she and Liam were heading for the exit, pausing long enough to snag the long jacket he’d started making her wear if she left a building—any building. Grateful for it tonight, she let him bundle her into it, then followed him out to the maze of LED-lit pathways.
A quick glance over her shoulder told her Grit was of the same bundle-‘em-up mind; he was carefully wrapping Tabitha in a puffy jacket that came to her knees.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Liam.”
Gray eyes shadowed by the dark peered down at her. “Why?”
“Hiding your reservations about Tabitha isn’t one of your strong suits,” she said quietly. “She’s the daughter of the man who killed Wyatt, she lost her childhood to psychopathic parents, and the rest of her life until now has consisted of murdering people. She was sent here to kill Elias, who you like a lot.”
His responding growly-sigh reduced her thighs to pudding. “Eavesdropping again, minx?”
Feigning innocence beautifully, because of course she couldn’t help but hear things accidentally on purpose, she touched her hand to her throat. “Not at all, Sir. We don’t just talk about how awe-inspiring we find your big egos on girl night, you know.”
Liam’s hand guided her along an unfamiliar path. “Our egos are crushed.”
“That was a euphemism for your cocks,” she giggled.
“My cock is no use to you if it’s flat packed.” When she laughed, he tugged her closer to his side, shortening his longer stride so they walked in unison. “Sometimes it feels like I haven’t heard you laugh in years. I like you here, Sierra. I like what this place is doing to you, to us. Landing us in this situation isn’t something you’d have done in Phoenix.”
That put a slight hitch in her stride. Mulling it over, she discovered he was right. However much she loved the girls at Avalon, they were all stronger, more confident, more established than she imagined herself to be. Aside from Caera, she felt like the baby of the family.
Here, she felt more… mature. Hell, maybe she was, now she was away from the ones who loved and coddled her. Not thatshe’d ever complain—not when they were the first people to accept and love her as she was—but things were different here.
The hierarchy was completely topsy-turvy. Established with Elias and Evander at the top, but then everyone else was still organizing themselves into a pecking order.
She heard a soft sob from behind them, one she’d often made herself when she was trying to hide her crying from Wyatt. He’d never really stayed long after sex, in the pre-Liam years, and she’d learned to smother her self-loathing and disgust to its quietest point until he left her apartment.
“It’s not for you this time,” Liam told her, his arm pushing her forward when she tried to stop and turn. “This is the build-up to the scene, minx. Tabitha needs to lean on Grit now and put what happened between them earlier behind them. He’ll comfort her, coax her into the right headspace. He’s a good Dom, you know that.”
Yes, she did. Maybe not one she’d have personally picked for an assassin, but then she wasn’t a matchmaker. Her own track record of choosing Doms for herself was zero; Wyatt was a complete failure, Liam had scooped her up like a stray puppy and claimed her for his own, and Mack simply fell into their laps as though he’d been there for years.
“He’s not going to hurt her accidentally, is he? I kinda, maybe, told her he wouldn’t.”
“Don’t ever promise something you can’t guarantee, minx. Luckily, we thought ahead.”
“Oh?”
The gravel crunching under their feet suddenly turned to solid concrete. He led her up the steps to a pair of wide sliding doors perfectly decorated with ornate swirls of black metal. “We cheated.”
Sierra blinked against the light when he slid open one of the doors. How exactly did one cheat at anal sex? Tentatively, mindful of the couple behind them, she asked that very question.
