Page 2 of Lesson In Honesty
Sierra was trembling now, her hands frozen mid-stitch.
“Good thing we’re not there then, isn’t it?” was the belligerent reply.
Every pair of eyes around the table were following the vocal volley like a tennis match, watching to see who’d win and what the penalties were. Tabitha was being restrained by Grit, her anger palpable—for all she was a psychopath, her loyalties were fierce.
“Do you like to drink, Blake? Kick back and socialize with friends after you’ve finished work, done a scene?” Liam asked softly. So softly, his tone was a blade hidden beneath the words.
“Who doesn’t?”
“I agree. And in a club like this, teeming with single submissives and couples actively seeking a third to play with, the bar is usually the social hub. The place any Dom wants to be when he requires a little after-work action.” As the trap began to close in around him, Liam was pleased to see a light of apprehension flicker in the other man’s dull blue eyes. “So I’m not going to break your legs for insulting my woman, as much as I want to do just that. I’m not going to smack your head into that wall over there and punch those oversized donkey teeth down your throat.”
Tabitha made a soft, sadawwsound.
“I’m gonna do much worse, Blake.” Leaning forward, baring his teeth in a savage smile, Liam pinned the asshole in his chair with a look. “Consider yourself blacklisted from my bar until I decide otherwise. I see you anywhere in my territory, I catch you near my girl, and I won’t just cut your dick off in a social capacity. Still think it’s a joke?”
Mouth opening and closing like a guppy, Blake stared at him blankly. He recovered soon enough, swinging his gaze toward the head of the table. “Elias, this is—”
Stone-faced, Eli just shook his head. “You don’t want me to intervene, Blake.”
“But—”
“Take the punishment or pack your bags and leave. Personally, I’d like very much to escort you to the end of the drive and break a few of your bones myself.”
Liam remained standing as his adversary surveyed the room, obviously not finding any support from the others. He shifted slightly, using his body as a shield when Blake’s chair shot back on the thick carpet and the weasel-faced idiot puffed himself up to his full, inadequate height.
“If that’s the way you want it,” he snapped, spinning on his heel and marching away from the table, smacking his shoulder against the woman sitting next to him. “You’ve got my notice, Elias.”
“I’ll kindly remind you of the NDA you signed,” Eli called after him before he reached the door; it slammed sharply in response. “Well, I wasn’t anticipating that.”
Breathing deep, Liam reached out and stroked Sierra’s tense shoulders, bending down to kiss the crown of her head. “You okay, little minx?”
She nodded. “He was mean.”
“He was. He won’t bother you anymore.” Exhaling slowly, he sat down again, meeting Elias’s questioning gaze across the table before doing the same with every Dominant present. “Let me start again. My name is Liam, and I don’t take shit from anyone. My submissive is a human being; not a freak, not a crutch for a lame joke. Respect begets respect.”
One of the unintroduced women applauded slowly. “That’s a sentiment I can get behind. Mistress Violet,” she told them as the air in the room began to lighten, free of the toxicity Blake exuded. Her voice was low, husky, kissed with a southern accent. “Happily divorced, poached from a small but thriving club in Louisiana by these two handsome devils,” she added, sending Evander a friendly wink, “and ready to get some roots in the ground again.”
It didn’t escape Liam’s notice how Sierra reacted to the woman’s voice. For a long moment, he thought her muscles might start to snap with stress, but after a few words, she relaxed enough to pick up the stitch and carry on.
Watching her, he knew her attention was no longer fully on the stuffie in her hands, just as her brain wasn’t completely drowned in anxiety from the confrontation.
Interesting.
While the introductions continued as though the meeting hadn’t just imploded, Liam kept an eye on his sub. She was flushed, her color high along her throat, cheeks, and the tips of her ears. The stitches she wove into the stuffie weren’t quite as meticulous, her fingers slower, and her focus was definitely not on her current project.
In the years since Wyatt’s death, she’d become more reserved. A lot of her traits became more Little like, especially when she was around others with the same childlike inclinations.
Coming here, leaving her friends and the encompassing warmth of their family at Avalon, hadn’t been what Liamwanted, yet it was a lifeline. A chance to get away from the memories of Wyatt dying, of the bond between Liam and Sierra straining as they grieved for a man who hadn’t been the best of men, but had been theirs.
They’d been trying for a child for months with no success—Sierra was shouldering all the blame, insisting her physical conditions were the cause of their inability to conceive. No matter how hard he tried to take some of the weight, she wouldn’t let him, giving her hirsutism and psoriasis even greater power over her.
Even their sex life was… stale. The love was there, the passion sometimes kindled into something akin to what it used to be, but the creativity, impulsivity, was withering away. Each time they failed to make a baby, the more she pulled back from intimacy.
Liam lost track of the room, mired in his thoughts.
It wasn’t until Elias rose to take command again that he shook off the maudlin mood dogging at his heels and listened to what his new boss was explaining.
“Some of you have designated areas,” Eli said, flicking lightly through a thin sheaf of paper. “Levi will be running the photography studio with a focus on the unique and erotic. Obviously, Liam is in charge of the bar and clubhouse. Felicity and Ericka are alternating between the Little daycare and the medical play area; Merrick, I believe you requested the dungeon?”