Jenna Black - Speak of the Devil

I couldn’t help smiling a little in wonder. “You are an absolute genius in the kitchen,” I said, savoring the smooth, sweet aftertaste.

“Thanks.”

I took another sip, trying to focus all my attention on how delicious the drink was. Dom sat next to me at the head of the table, and his presence was a balm on my wounded soul. I realized he was the one man I knew who was just an uncomplicated friend, not someone who wanted something out of me. That realization threatened to bring on the tears, so I shoved it aside and drank more coffee.

My devastated mental state left most of my barriers and shields down, and I found myself asking Dom something that under ordinary circumstances I’d never have even considered asking.

“How can you like it when Adam hurts you?” I immediately regretted the question, but Dom didn’t look offended.

“I like it because when he hurts me, it doesn’t really hurt.”

“Huh?”

He smiled at me. “I can’t believe you’re actually asking me about this. You usually look like you’re going to die of embarrassment if we even vaguely allude to anything you might consider kinky.”

I stared at the foam in my coffee cup. “I guess I’m hoping you’ll say the magic words that will somehow help me deal with what Adam did to me. I’ve never really dealt with it, you know? I just kind of… pretended it didn’t happen.”

“The only thing that happened is you got beat up,” Dom said. I gave him an indignant look, but he went on before I could put my thoughts into words. “The fact that he used a tool that can be a BDSM toy to do it is irrelevant. It wasn’t about BDSM, it was about a seriously pissed-off demon getting his pound of flesh. You know there’s a big difference, don’t you?”

I heaved a sigh. “Yeah.” I wouldn’t say I came close to understanding the dynamics of Adam’s relationship with Dom, but I knew what Dom was saying was true. “Can we just forget I started this conversation?”

Dom was silent for a moment, but I wasn’t surprised when he ignored my request.

“When Adam plays with me,” he said, “I’m in something like an altered state. Some people describe it as ‘subspace.’ When I’m in that subspace, pain doesn’t really register as pain. It’s just a very strong physical sensation.” One corner of his mouth lifted, though I think he was trying to suppress his smile. “One I happen to like.” The half-smile faded. “But the point is, I have to be in that subspace to like it. I’m not really a masochist. Under ordinary circumstances, I’m as anxious to avoid pain as anyone else.

“It’s Adam’s job as my dominant to help me find my way into that subspace.” Dom grinned. “He’s very good at it, though he’s not a natural. Demons don’t need to be in subspace to enjoy pain. For them, it’s all about the novelty of physical sensation. When I was hosting Saul, there was almost no dominance and submission going on between him and Adam—it was all about sensation play.

“The point is that demons are interested in SM for different reasons than humans. I’ve kind of trained Adam to treat it in a human way, but what he did to you was pure demon. Don’t confuse it with BDSM. They’re not the same at all.”

I chewed that over for a bit, knowing that if I ever broke free of my own altered state, brought about by shock and emotional pain, I was going to be mortified about this conversation. But then again, if I was having this conversation with Dom, then I wasn’t thinking about Brian or about my session in the black room.

“I guess that makes sense,” I finally said. “I’m not sure I really understand it, but it makes sense.” I frowned. “Of course, that sentence doesn’t make sense.” Hmm, maybe the Frangelico was starting to get to me. Since I wasn’t a big drinker, it didn’t take much to make me loopy.

I was saved from making any more silly, incoherent statements—and from asking any more questions that would embarrass me later—when Adam joined us in the kitchen. I was staring into my cup again, but I still managed to catch the warning look that Dom gave Adam.

Adam sat at the table across from me. “I’m sorry if talking about this makes me insensitive,” he said.

“Adam…” Dominic said.

“I think it’s important we establish just what we’re dealing with in Barbara Paget,” Adam said. “And it’s now obvious that she did, in fact, break in and snoop around.”

I found my courage somewhere and lifted my gaze from the depths of my coffee cup. “How is that obvious?”

“Like I was saying before, I clean my whips. At least, I did when I had need.”

Meaning back when Dominic was possessed, and their “play” involved bloodshed. I knew that was not the case anymore, that Adam was very careful with his lover. I still shuddered at the thought.

“But that time with you,” Adam continued, “I put the whip back in its box for a little bit before I got around to cleaning it. I hadn’t opened the box since, but when I did just now, I saw that all the padding inside had been removed.”

I blinked a couple of times, my thoughts feeling sluggish, either from stress or from booze. “So Barbie broke into your house and stole the padding from the box.”

Adam nodded. “Along with a few other things that I’d probably never have noticed if she hadn’t sent that stuff to Brian. But here’s the part that’s really disturbing— not only did she steal the stuff, but she also had access to someone who was able to analyze the blood and identify it as yours.”

That didn’t sound good at all. “I guess I need to go have a chat with Private Eye Barbie tomorrow.”

“No, I think we need to go have a chat with her,” Adam countered.

And, realizing that my mental faculties probably wouldn’t be much sharper tomorrow than they were today, I had to agree.

I leftDom and Adam’s place at around eight, when Saul got back from wherever he’d been. I’d pretended not to notice the pointed looks Adam was giving me. There was no way in hell I was inviting Saul to stay at my place tonight. I could hardly stand my own company, much less Saul’s.

When I got home, I went directly to bed, even though it was way too early for that. I put on my comfiest PJs and pulled the covers up over my head, wishing myself into a deep and oblivious sleep.

The sleep itself came with surprising ease. Amazing how much having the love of your life accuse you of cheating on him can take out of a girl. I should have known better than to hope for oblivion, however.

Once again, there was a merry fire crackling in the fireplace in Lugh’s living room, and the air held just enough chill to make the warmth welcome. However, this time I was lying down on the butter-soft sofa, my head pillowed against the armrest. A cashmere-soft blanket was tucked snugly around me. My feet were propped on Lugh’s lap, and under the blanket, he was running his thumbs up and down their soles with just the right amount of pressure to make my toes curl pleasantly.

For just a moment, I felt warm, and comfortable, and cherished. Then my mind clicked back into gear and I remembered my disastrous evening. I closed my eyes and then covered them with my forearm. Lugh continued to massage my feet, and though I could only describe the touch as sensual, I knew that he didn’t have seduction on his mind, that he was merely trying to comfort me.

Silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity, and I think I would have fallen asleep, if I hadn’t been asleep already. I kept waiting for Lugh to say something, but he didn’t. He just kept rubbing my feet soothingly.

Eventually, the silence got to me, and I had to break it.