Page 4

TICK TOCK

T he man leaned in close, lips brushing her ear as he whispered something only she could hear. Whatever he said made her shoulders ease and her head tilted just slightly in his direction. Then his hand went to the leash, slow and steady, like this was routine. He unhooked it from her collar with a simple flick, no hesitation, just a quiet action that said she was free to go, or maybe just free to choose who she knelt for next.

She looked...nervous. Wide-eyed. Still collared, but free.

Then, just like before, she lowered herself to the ground. Chest lifted, chin down. And crawled toward me on her hands and knees.

I slid into a chair and watched as she came closer, her curvy ass swaying in the air alluringly as she approached. That bell jingled with every shift. She didn’t meet my eyes. Not until she was kneeling right in front of me, her hands on her thighs, waiting for something she didn’t even know if I could give.

The air between us was electric.

“You always crawl over to strangers,” I asked, my voice low and edged with something darker than curiosity. “Or did he tell you to come to me?” I hated the thought that she may have been ordered to come satisfy a stranger, even if that stranger was me.

She peeked up at me from beneath long lashes, eyes wide and unsure, and that soft little nod she gave almost undid me.

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was honey-laced and shy. “He said I could… if I wanted to.”

“And did you want to?”

She hesitated before giving me another nod.“Yes.”

Something about the way she said it, so quietly, like a confession, made me sit up straighter. She wasn’t like the other women in the room. She didn’t have that seasoned hunger or the performance behind her eyes. This one was new. Still learning the ropes. Still unsure if she was prey or predator. And God help me, I wanted to find out.

“You don’t look like you belong in a place like this,” I murmured, letting my hand fall to the table beside me. Her gaze followed it like a kitten chasing movement. “You seem too soft for all this?”

Her lips parted, a nervous little smile tugging at her mouth. “I… I’m still figuring it out.”

My brow lifted. “First time?”

She shrugged one bare shoulder. “Not the first. But almost.”

She was sweet. Sweet in the way that made me want to ruin her slowly. Her eyes kept darting up to mine, then dropping again like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to look at me.

“And you like being watched?” I asked, my voice dipping lower, rougher, scraping across her skin like sandpaper wrapped in heat. She blushed for me.

“Being up there on that stage… you didn’t look scared.”

She bit her lip. Fuck, it was soft. Plush and pink and begging to be marked. I wanted to tug it between my teeth and make her whimper.

“I didn’t think I would,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “But I… I liked it. More than I expected.”

I leaned in closer, close enough to feel the warmth coming off her skin, the scent of something sweet and soft that clung to her like a memory I hadn’t made yet.

“You like it rough?” I asked, my thumb brushing along the underside of her chin, tilting her face toward mine.

Her breath hitched. “I… I don’t know,” she said quietly, like she was embarrassed to admit it.

“Maybe.” Her fingers curled against her thighs, the bell at her throat giving the softest chime as she nodded slightly.

I brushed my lips against hers, just barely. Not a kiss. A sweet warning.

She let out a shaky sigh that fluttered against my mouth, her lashes trembling as her eyes closed for half a second, looking like she was trying to hold onto the moment.

“What are you?” I asked, letting my voice drop low enough to vibrate in my chest. “You’re not just some dancer in a collar.” I lightly flicked the bell on her collar, hearing it chime as I continued to graze my lips against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, and she opened her eyes, looking up at me like she was giving something away she shouldn’t.

“I’m a kitten,” she said softly. “It’s a… type of submissive. I like affection. Attention. Gentle touches. I purr. I crawl. I obey.”

Jesus. Christ.

She kept talking, unaware of how every word was digging deeper under my skin.

“Some men… they like to take care of me. Pet me. Feed me. Use me. I give them softness. Something sweet in a dark place.”

My jaw clenched. The thought of her offering herself to anyone else, of another man making her crawl to him, hearing her purr while he dragged his fingers through her hair, it boiled something sharp and hot in my blood.

I reached out, slid my hand up the side of her throat, slow, thumb tracing the edge of the collar.

“This collar means you belong to someone right now?” I asked.

She shook her head, just a tiny movement. “Not tonight.”

Not tonight.

Not yet.

“Good,” I said, brushing her lower lip with my thumb. “Because I don’t share well.”

And the way her body shivered under my hand told me she didn’t want me to.

Damn.

I reached forward, slowly, and let the backs of my fingers trail down the curve of her jaw. She leaned into it, like instinct.

“You got a name, kitten?”

“Amethyst,” she whispered. “What’s yours?”

“Tick Tock,” I replied, partly amused. She gave me a fake name, I'd give her my road name.

She blinked. “Is that real?”

“It is to me.”

She giggled, the sound was soft and warm, and it settled somewhere deep in my chest, a place I didn’t know could feel that damn good.

Her eyes flicked to my chest then, to the patch stitched above my heart. Her expression changed. Subtle at first, like a thought trying to surface. Then she leaned forward just enough to read the bottom rocker.

Road Captain.

Royal Bastards MC.

And just like that, the sweetness drained from her face. Her smile faltered. Her breath caught. The color in her cheeks faded like a sunset dipping behind storm clouds.

“You’re a…” Her voice cracked, barely audible. “You’re a Bastard?”

I leaned in, curiosity rising. “That a problem, sweetheart?”

But before I could touch her again, she shot to her feet. Stumbled back a step.

“Amethyst?”

“I have to go,” she said quickly, her voice shaking. She looked like she was trying not to cry or maybe trying not to scream. “I… I shouldn’t have come over. I’m…I’m sorry.”

And just like that, she turned and ran, disappearing through the red-lit haze before I could get another word out.

What the fuck?

I was on my feet, boots heavy against the floor, blood pounding hard in my ears. I wasn’t really thinking, I just didn’t want to lose sight of her. I got glimpses of her as I shuffled through the crowd, not caring about the rules or the looks I was getting. She’d come to me, crawled to me, and then bolted like I’d lit a fuse under her. And I wasn’t about to let her vanish without a damn word.

I followed her until I came to a set of blue velvet curtains. That’s when a large hand clamped down on my chest like a brick wall wrapped in latex. One of the bouncers, a big motherfucker, arms like steel pipes, sunglasses indoors like he thought it made him invisible, was standing in my way.

“You don’t get to go back there,” he said flatly.

I stared at him, my jaw locked so tight I could feel it creak. “I was with someone. She just ran back there.”

He didn’t blink. “Then she doesn’t wanna be followed, man.”

I took a slow step forward, testing the weight of the hand on my chest, the tension in my knuckles starting to hum.

“Don’t,” the guy said, calm as hell. “Not if you wanna keep coming back.”

I backed off, barely. My fists were tight, but I wasn’t stupid. Not here. Not when I didn’t know the game yet.

I turned, scanning the room, and caught the eye of a woman leaning against the wall by the bar. Tall. Tattooed. Legs for days and lips painted blood red. Her hair was a sharp platinum blonde, shaved on one side. She wore a black leather corset that hugged every inch of her, and her thigh-high boots looked like they’d stepped on a few men who deserved it. She watched me with that sharp, amused look women get when they know something you don’t.

I stalked over. “You know the girl who just went behind that curtain?”

She took a sip of whatever dark liquid filled her glass, let it roll on her tongue before answering. “If you mean the girl with the bell around her neck and the ungodly fear in her eyes… doesn’t know whether to purr or run?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She smirked. “That’s Amethyst.”

“Yeah, Amethyst,” I repeated, the name sticking in my throat like honey and ash.

“She’s new,” the woman said, tilting her glass toward the curtain where Amethyst had vanished. “Probably got spooked. This place? It’s not for the innocent. You either find yourself in here, or you lose yourself fast.”

“So she works here?”

The woman nodded, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass like she was toying with her own thoughts. “Started a couple weeks ago, just got on the floor. Doesn’t say much. Sweet thing. Quiet. Skittish in that way that makes men want to go for the chase. Has no idea the kind of attention she pulls.”

Her eyes dragged down my body like she was appraising me for a private auction, then flicked back up with a slow, sly grin that tugged at the corner of her dark red lips.

“You were her first choice, huh?”

“First choice?” I echoed, my brow lifting.

She nodded again, and her long silver earrings caught the low light, dangling back and forth hypnotically. “Usually the pets… they get a moment to look around. Scan the room. They get their pick of who to approach. It’s all about instinct and connection.” She paused, taking another sip of her drink. “And surprisingly, she picked you, handsome.”

My jaw ticked as I took in her words.

“She could have crawled to anyone,” the woman added, voice low and knowing. “But she saw you, and that was it. I thought she’d go sweeter, didn’t expect dangerous.”

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. I looked back toward the curtain, jaw tight, my chest still buzzing from the feel of her voice, her hands, her fucking innocent eyes on mine.

She didn’t belong here. And she’d made the mistake of coming to me. Whatever spooked her, whatever sent her running, I was going to find out what it was.

I turned toward the exit, pushed through the door and out into the heavy Louisiana night. Lit a smoke. Let it burn between my fingers as the bayou swallowed the silence around me.

“She’s mine,” I said low to no one but the dark.

And I’d be coming back for her.