Savage Tracker by Maggie Cole

7

Obrecht

"I don't givea fuck what Liam wants," I bark out in Russian.

"We have enough issues right now, don't you think?" Adrian replies.

I stare at the crashing waves of Lake Michigan. It's a sunny day, but nothing inside me feels happy. Jack Christian will pay for what he did to Selena. If it's the last thing I do on this Earth, I'm going to make him regret ever setting eyes on her.

Adrian lowers his voice. "I'm right. You're the one who always says when I'm spinning, I need to walk away. You're spinning right now—"

"He waterboarded her," I growl.

"He will pay, brother. But you need to keep your cool. I need your head in the game right now. If we don't sort out the issue with Dasha, every Ivanov is in danger."

I want to remind my brother it's his ex-wife and to deal with it himself, but I know I can't. And he's right. The issues his ex put us in with the Polish mob are nothing to dismiss. I order, "Put a tracker on him."

"We don't need to."

"Are you kidding me?" I bark.

"Easy! Liam has Finn on him."

"Fine! You call—" I freeze. Selena is kneeling in my bedroom doorway with her head bowed. She has on the blue T-shirt I left out for her to wear.

Jesus, help me.

It was a top-bottom arrangement. She's not understanding.

One more time, then I’ll explain it to her.

No. She deserves better and is already struggling with all this.

"Call Liam and make sure he still has Finn on him. If anything changes, we're to know before it happens. And you make sure Liam knows this is nonnegotiable." I hang up and stare at my dorogaya.

I hate myself right now. The longer I stare at her, the harder my dick becomes. I fight my urges to fall back into our roles from last night. Selena needs to be educated so she can make choices.

We can't do this right now.

She thinks it's normal all the time.

That's what he made her do.

This is torture. Why does she have to be so sexy?

She's so young. I'm officially a dirty old man.

I approach her slowly. I crouch down in front of her. "Look at me, Selena."

She obeys, like the good girl she is, her eyes wide and so eager to make me happy. I ignore my throbbing erection and the urges raging through me. I stroke her cheek. "No more kneeling."

She inhales sharply. Her voice shakes as she whispers, "I'm sorry. I'll do better for you. Please give me another chance."

My heart pounds harder. I keep my focus on her eyes, trying to read her. "You haven't done anything wrong, baby girl. Come have breakfast, and let's talk."

I take her hands and pull her up with me then lead her to the table. I pull a chair out. Her head is down again, and I realize she's waiting for me to permit her. "Please, sit and don't bow your head."

She obeys, and I move her hair over her shoulder, then put my hands on them and rub her. I lean down to her ear. "Do you remember how things were when we went over your finances?"

She turns to see me. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't kneeling or looking anywhere but at me or the papers. I didn’t have any power over you. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

"Good." I pull the chair out next to her and sit. "Can we switch over to that?"

Her lip quivers. She looks away for a moment. She asks, "You regret last night, don't you?"

I turn her chin toward me. "Not at all. Do you?"

"No. But-but you don't want me anymore?"

Oh, baby girl, if you only knew how much I want you.

"This is not about desire, Selena. We need to talk where you're in full power of your actions right now. That's all."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one with the issues," she blurts out.

I snort. "I have my own shit to deal with, don't be fooled."

"Highly doubt it."

I drag my finger down her neck and around her collar. I shouldn't touch it. I hate what she thinks it means. She should know what it really means to be collared, not what she experienced. "Listen, baby girl, once I explain some things, a lot of these issues won't be issues."

"What about the things that are?"

I don't know.

"Let's take it one step at a time, okay?" I confidently suggest.

"Okay."

I loop my finger under her collar and pull her closer to my face. She shudders, and I almost groan out loud. She stares at my lips and swallows hard.

Fuuuck.I want to tell her to kneel and spend the day ordering her around in bed, but I can't. This is too important.

"I'm going to test you on this when we get done, so I need you to pay attention, okay?"

She furrows her eyebrows. Anxiety fills her voice. "Really?"

I grin. "Nope. But I want you to ask me questions so you understand it and remember that what Jack did to you was wrong. You were with him for a long time. If it takes a while to process this, it's okay." What I'm about to explain to her is complex and can take a bit to understand.

She blinks hard but bravely replies, "Okay, Obrecht."

I peck her on the lips and lean back, trying to distance myself slightly to reduce the fire burning in my belly. The urge to splay my hand on her spine, bend her over the table, and lift that T-shirt right above her ass is building. "Let's talk about the club."

Her face turns red.

"That was not the club for you," I state.

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, but let's talk about why it wasn't."

She turns in her chair toward me. "I chose it because Jack wouldn't be there. At least, we never went there."

"Okay. That was smart reasoning. However, a safe club has STD tests for its members, rules about guests, a real application process, and costs thousands, not a few hundred dollars."

She wrinkles her nose. "I didn't really understand the buffet."

"Oh, I know, right? Gross. That should have been your first clue," I tease but am also serious.

"I figured I just had to overlook it."

"No. Don’t ever overlook your gut feeling. First, STD testing is more than checking a box if you have one or not. Legitimate tests are required, and it flows into guests. The application is several pages long, not what's on your driver's license."

"They didn't ask for a license number," Selena smirks.

"I'm glad you're having fun with this," I remark.

Her face falls. "Sorry. I'm just embarrassed."

"Don't be, but learn from this."

She nods. "I am."

I lean forward and pick up her hands. I shouldn't touch her but she's too hard to resist. Now that I've had her, the restraint I'd displayed before last night is shattered. "You always have to state your boundaries before you go into any session. Hard limits, safe words, and anything else they should know about your wants and needs."

She bites on her lip.

"No one should ever do anything to you that you don't want them to do. Understand?"

Pain fills her face. "Okay."

"And if someone does something to cross your boundary or just something you don't like, you say the safe word, and they should stop immediately," I inform her.

"Can I keep it as faucet?" she asks.

"Yes. You need to tell any partner what it is before you go into a session, okay?"

"Yes, but why are you calling it a session?"

There are so many things to discuss with her. Every question seems to lead to more. I debate where to go next and finally say, "The club we were at last night is a sex club. What you're looking for is a BDSM club."

My dorogaya's face contorts. "BDSM?"

"Bondage and discipline. Dominance and submission. Sadism and masochism."

She inhales deeply. She swallows hard. "Sadism? Masochism? I don't like pain."

Pride swells through me. I kiss her hand. "Good, baby girl. If you don't like pain, then you don't let anyone hurt you."

She releases a breath. "And it's okay? To say I don't want it?"

"Yes. Always. You negotiate before a session and always have your hard limits and safe word included. The club we were at last night, they aren't trained. You could have gotten severely injured in a session."

Her face reddens more. "I still don’t understand what a session is."

"What we did at the club last night would be called a session. I was your top, and you were my bottom."

She shakes her head. "I don't understand why there are all these names."

"It's important to know who you're playing with and what they are and what they expect you to be. Otherwise, you can get hurt and both people won't get what they need," I warn. I pick up the pen. "Are you visual?"

"Yes. I suppose so. Umm... I thought with Jack I was a slave, but I thought I wanted to be a submissive, and then you say I'm a bottom."

"Ah. Let's look at this on levels, with no one being better than the other, okay?" I draw one line down and two across so there are six boxes. In one column, I put S-type and the other D-type. I slide my hand over the S-type column. "You're going to be one of these three on this side. I'm on the other."

"D for dominant?" she asks.

"Yes."

"I didn't know you were dominant," she claims with a straight face then breaks out in a smile.

"Funny."

Her grin widens, lighting up the room. "Okay, I'm following you so far."

In the boxes under the S-type column, I put bottom, sub, slave. Under the D-type column, I write top, Dom, Master. "What you were in with Jack is not how a Master-slave relationship should go."

"No?"

I hold her cheek and put my thumb on her jaw. I do it more to help me keep my cool than anything else. "Did Jack ask you to be his slave?"

"Ask?"

"Yes. Did he ask and you agreed?" I repeat.

"I agreed to marry him."

"That doesn't mean you agreed to be his slave."

"He said it did."

My rage grows again. I count to ten to stay calm. Everything I am wants to go directly to Jack's house and kill him with my hands. "A Master-slave relationship should always be between two parties consenting before the relationship begins. Forced slavery isn't healthy."

"But you're not a Master?"

"No, and I will never be."

"Why not?" she asks.

"It's not what I want. I don't want someone kneeling for me all day long or not able to speak up and make decisions. I don't want what happens in the bedroom twenty-four seven."

She looks away, and I realize she thinks it's a reflection on her, since she spent ten years as a slave.

"Look at me, baby girl," I say.

She obeys.

"You didn't choose what you had. I like commanding my women in the bedroom and discussing things freely outside of that. I want them to think and make their own choices for themselves when we're not in a session. Do you understand?"

"No."

"Right now, you aren't asking me to speak or what to think. On the roof, in your condo, at breakfast...those were all times when you weren't acting as a submissive. And as much as I got off controlling you in the club, I like the other side of you, too." I tuck her hair behind her ear. "Don't you like both parts?"

She tilts her head. The expression on her face almost kills me, and she replies quietly, "I don't know, should I?"

Oh, baby girl.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I feel like something is wrong with me. I-I shouldn't want to do that after leaving Jack. Submitting is bad and wrong, isn't it?"

I rise quickly, fist her hair, and tug her head back. I dip down in front of her face. Her nipples press into my T-shirt. It's another thing driving me nuts, so I pinch one, then circle it.

She gasps, staring into my eyes.

"You think there's something wrong with submitting to me?" I growl.

"No," she breathes with fire in her eyes.

I walk my fingers down her torso, under her T-shirt, and onto her mound. "If I touch that pretty little pussy of yours right now, is it going to be wet and pulsing?"

She swallows hard. "Yes."

My fingers itch to slide lower, but I refrain. "Then doesn't submitting feel good, baby girl?"

"Yes," she whispers.

I lean closer to her mouth. "I loved every moment of making your body react to mine. There's nothing wrong or bad with submission if it's what you need and it's done safely."

"Safely?" she repeats.

I release her hair and sit back down. "Yes. A good Dominant will make sure you don't go past your limits. Their job is to give you what you need. You need to submit, but you need more than just that. A good Dominant will make sure you get it all and aftercare as well."

"Aftercare?"

"Yes. When you finish a session, your top or Dom should take care of you."

She ponders for a moment. "Is that why you washed me? You do that with everyone after?"

My heart pounds faster. "No. I don't ever do that."

More confusion fills her face. "But you did it with me?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you usually do it?"

"No one ever comes home with me." My chest tightens. I'm breaking all my rules with Selena. Now she knows it, too. But I couldn't have left her last night, even if she didn't tell me she didn't want to be alone. She pushes me with her question, and as uncomfortable as it makes me feel to discuss this, I'm so proud of her. Every question she asks me is necessary. It's beyond important that she understands what she wants and how to get it.

She asks, "Why not?"

"I'm a top."

"And I was your bottom last night?"

"Yes."

"I'm so confused."

I tap my fingers on the table then redirect her to the chart I drew. "Look at it this way. A top and bottom negotiate a session. They both get what they need, have some aftercare, and they go their separate ways, free to do whatever they want. The power is given only during the session. Are you following me?" I don't tell her a top can be an S-type or a bottom can be a D-type at times or about switches. There's so much in the BDSM world, and I need her to grasp the basics first.

She bites on her lip and nods. "I think so."

"Great." I point to the middle row. "A sub and Dom are typically in some sort of committed relationship. The power exchange is long term. It could mean every weekend or when they are together or Tuesday nights. It's not all the time though."

She examines the paper. "If you were my Dom, I could come upstairs every weekend and kneel but not during the week?" She raises her eyebrow in a hopeful way.

Fuck.I'm so tempted to tell her yes and ask her if that's what she wants. The visual of Selena kneeling before me all weekend, allowing me to command her for days in a row sets my blood pounding straight to my dick.

She can't know what she wants. She's not educated on her choices.

I don't do long term.

I force myself to not give in. "If that were our arrangement, but it isn't."

Her face falls.

"If you ever get into that type of relationship, it's consensual. Both people agree. Do you understand?"

She sighs heavily then nods. Her face falls further. "And what is the Master-slave relationship like? If the one I was in was wrong?"

I choose my words carefully. "This is the one I have the toughest time with, my dorogaya. I don't believe we should always be in our Dominant and submissive roles. One person always in charge in all aspects of life isn't something I agree with, but it exists. But even slaves who consent to be in that type of relationship shouldn't be abused how you were."

She hugs her chest and puts her feet on the bottom of her seat so her knees are above the table. She tugs at the bottom of the T-shirt.

"You were very brave to get out of your situation," I tell her and mean it.

She stares at the paper. "I couldn't have done it without Sister Amaltheia, Kora, and Sergey." She turns to me. "Do you know what Sergey did to get Jack to divorce me?"

My pulse increases. I don't want to lie to her, but I'm not sure why I tell her more than necessary. "Yes. My brother Adrian and I were part of it."

Her eyes widen. "You were?"

"Yes."

"How?"

I stroke her cheek. "If I could tell you, I still wouldn't. You shouldn't even know I was there."

"Where?"

Way to dig the hole deeper. I need to shut up.

I stay quiet.

She studies me for several moments. It's as if I can see the wheels turning in her head. Her eyes light up. "You saw him at a sex club and got dirt on him, didn't you?"

I try not to react, but I can't help it. "What makes you ask me that?"

"You go to sex clubs. He goes to sex clubs. I got more than I was legally entitled to."

I tug her onto my lap. She turns to me, and I kiss her, moving my tongue in and out of her mouth until she moans. I end the kiss and tap her head. "You're smart, baby girl. This is why I don't want you ever being anyone's slave. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"But let me be clear about something. I would never participate in any club your ex goes to. I don't have sex with prostitutes, nor do I force women to do anything they don't want to."

She cups my cheek. "Then, why were you there?"

"We went there to get dirt on him. That doesn't mean we partook in the activities." My gut flips, wondering if she believes me. It's true. I detest prostitution. I know some women do it willingly, but many are forced into it, and all it does is make me think of Natalia's final year of life.

She opens her mouth, shuts it, then says, "Some nights, I didn't have to partake."

Every organ in my body seems to awaken. Part of me doesn't want to know. The thought of her going through what she did breaks my heart. The other side of me wants every last detail for when I have my day with Jack. I tighten my arm around her. "What did you do when you went to the club with Jack?"

"Only one of two things." Pain fills her eyes.

"Will you tell me? Please?"

She traces my lips with her finger. "I like touching you."

"I like touching you, too," I tell her. It's the understatement of the year. My soul feels like it's alive when my skin makes contact with hers.

Darkness fills her expression. "He would have me kneel naked all night and watch him while he screwed other women. Sometimes it was on these circle things that stopped my blood flow. If I moved, I paid the consequences. He would snort coke, and it kept him awake longer. Before we got to the club, he would take Viagra so he could go all night. When it wore off, he'd pop another one. Sometimes, my body hurt so bad, I wished I would die."

I pull her head to my chest and caress her hair. "I'm glad you didn't die. He won't ever do that to you again, I promise."

She looks up and doesn't look too sure. I'm about to reassure her when she reveals, "Other nights, he would still take the coke and Viagra, but I was the one whom he had sex with. Everyone would watch. If I cried or came, there would be consequences. If I didn't come when he wanted me to, there were consequences as well." Her eyes well with tears, and one escapes the corner of her eye. A sarcastic laugh comes out of her mouth. "Usually, he decided anything I did wasn't good enough. I always had consequences. Sometimes, I would pay for days for whatever I did at the club."

"What were the consequences, Selena?" I try to maintain my cool, but all I can think about is finding Jack today and taking him to the garage, then making sure his ashes are on the bottom of Lake Michigan.

She squishes her face and looks up at the ceiling. "I umm..." She releases a shaky breath.

"Take your time, baby girl. Breathe."

She follows my command. I continue stroking her hair. She curls into me like a kitten on my lap, and I wrap my arms tighter around her.

"There were so many things over the years. Starvation, dehydration, cold showers, hot showers, belts, whips, chains. Just...too many things." Her hot tears slide under my T-shirt and down my chest. "I should be grateful nothing left a long-term mark."

I count to ten again. "And did he force you to be with other people?" Everything she's telling me is making my stomach flip, but when I ask her, Natalia's face pops into my mind again. I sniff hard, trying to control my rage over what happened to Natalia and Selena.

Natalia's rapist and killers are dead.

I can still kill Jack.

I will kill Jack.

She shakes her head. "No. He liked to make it very clear I was his. He thought it bothered me to watch him screw other women. After the first year of marriage, I didn't care anymore. I stopped crying about his infidelity." She laughs again. "Isn't that absurd? Within the first few months of marriage, it was apparent what my role was, and I still cried after every session at the club where he would be with other women. I still assumed he loved me. How pathetic is that?"

I lift her face. Her brown eyes have sad swirls of green in them, and it pains me further. "There isn't a bone in your body that's pathetic, my dorogaya. You survived. Sometimes, the bravest thing is surviving."

"Instead of killing yourself?" she whispers.

My heart stops beating. "Do you think about killing yourself, baby girl?"

She shakes her head. "Not anymore. I used to want to, but Jack had cameras all over the house. I couldn't even pee without him watching me. I was so scared I would try it and not die, and then I would have worse consequences."

"I'm sorry you went through that. I'm so happy you didn't hurt yourself or worse."

She opens her mouth then shuts it and turns to the window. She twists her fingers in her lap so tight, her knuckles turn white.

I softly ask, "What do you want to ask me?"

She doesn't look at me. Her voice shakes. Hurt is in it. "You said a top and bottom have their session and go their separate ways. Is that what we'll be doing?"

I should tell her yes. It's what happens. It's the entire point of not being a Dom or Master. You get what you need, there's no emotional attachment, and you move on. Sure, you can play again, but it somehow doesn't seem right in this situation. If she goes to another club on her own, she might get hurt. She isn’t ready to be out there by herself.

The thought of anyone else touching my dorogaya makes me feel ill. But I know myself. I don't do relationships.

Tell her yes.

I'm going to confuse her if I don't tell her yes.

No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to tell Selena yes. "Tops and bottoms can negotiate new sessions together. When the session ends, the control ends. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The fire glows hotter in her eyes. She straightens up in my lap, straddles me, and puts her arms around my shoulders. Her lips are inches from mine, tempting me. She drags her nails on my neck, back and forth, and I hold in my groan. "Does that mean we could negotiate a session again? This doesn't have to be the end for us?"

Before I can stop myself, I say, "No, baby girl. This isn't the end of us."