Lexi Blake - Dungeon Royale

Her face was pale, but she seemed steady. “He would have killed me, Damon. When Candice started running, I smashed my foot across the bridge of his and I shot him. I think I killed him. But it was him or me and I don’t think he was likely a very good person.”

“I’m so sorry.” Candice was sitting on the floor, huddled close to the front, her face blotchy from crying.

Penelope had killed her attacker and managed to bring in both of their assets.

He reached out for her. It didn’t matter that she was angry with him. It didn’t mean a thing that she didn’t seem to want him anymore. She needed comfort, and he was damn well going to provide it. She was still wearing his collar. He’d brutally failed to protect her. He could at least offer her this.

If she rejected him, he might die.

She went into his arms the minute he opened them. She was soft and warm and he hadn’t realized how cold he’d been.

“I killed him.” Her body shook as she cried, and he tightened his arms around her.

“It’s all right, love. You did so well.” She’d been more than he could have hoped for. But she was gentle at heart, and it would hurt her that she’d been forced to kill. “You did the only thing you could.”

She simply cried into his shoulder. As they moved deeper into Helsinki, Damon held on and prayed he could be enough for her.

Standing in an alley near the docks ten minutes later, Damon forced himself to move though every single muscle in his body ached. He had to face certain truths. He was damaged. His body was ruined. Possibly beyond repair. He might look all right on the outside. He might be able to fake his way through looking fit, but he wasn’t. He’d lied to himself, to everyone. He’d hidden from the fact for the last six months, but it was brutally true and he’d discovered something else about himself.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t even care that he’d lost consciousness, nearly wrecked the operation. All that he cared about was the fact that Penelope had held onto him briefly and then shut him out again.

“Are you sure this will work?” Taggart asked.

Jake Dean used a crowbar to force the crate open. “If it doesn’t, we won’t be any worse off than we are now. I already called Chelsea. She’s back on board. She and Jesse cut their trip short once they confirmed it was a distraction. She’s worked the system. They’re expecting crate number 1021009 in housekeeping. It’s supposed to be a new shipment of organic cleaning equipment. Jesse’s back on board, and he’s going to sign for it. He’s waiting for the crate and then we’ll move it to storage and get him back out again with no one the wiser.”

Him being Brody Carter, who was still unconscious. Simon wound rope around the bugger’s massive wrists and Taggart held out a ball gag setup that would have made the subs spit and scream his way, but it would totally work for what they needed to do.

There was more than one way to get on the boat, and they were using it.

If only he could get Penelope to look at him.

She’d clung to him, crying into his shoulder and holding him tight, but when the van had stopped and they’d had to get out and be cruise ship passengers again, she’d pulled away from him.

He couldn’t stand it. He hated not touching her, not being close to her.

It shouldn’t matter. They had the package. Everyone on the crew was fine. The cops weren’t waiting at the boarding level of the ship. It was successful despite the fact that they didn’t have Bennett or Baz. He should have been okay with it, but he didn’t give a shit because Penelope wouldn’t look at him.

“Should we stay here and look for Walter Bennett?” Penelope asked quietly.

At least that was a question he could answer for her. She wouldn’t allow him to do much else. “That’s not a good idea, love. After the debacle at the church, we have to be worried about the police. We need to question Carter and it’s going to be easier to do that on board, where we can control our surroundings. He knows where Bennett is. If we need to come back to find him, we will. But we’ll come back with a full team and support.”

They stuffed Carter in the crate, his dead weight a massive burden. Jake brought in a handcart and they got the crate on wheels. Jake nodded toward him, waving him off. He and Simon would board on the cargo level with the shipment. The rest of them had to get back on the boat with smiles on their faces like they’d had a brilliant time in Finland. Charlotte and Penelope had been trying to fix Candice’s makeup. She looked pale but walked solidly ahead of them.

His chest still ached with every breath. He kept his footsteps steady, but he had to think about it, had to focus. There was a small wound on his left bicep that still stung a bit. He was wearing Taggart’s jacket to cover up the small stain on his shirt.

“Are you all right?” Penelope asked as they moved toward the cruise terminal. All around them happy tourists flocked to buy candies and small souvenirs to take back to loved ones at home.

He had no one who cared where he’d been or what he’d done. No one who cared truly if he lived or died. He’d had Penelope, but he’d ruined that somehow. “I’m perfectly fit.”

Candice looked back. “Can I go to my room?”

Damon nodded. “Yes. But don’t leave there. We might need you.”

“I would like to talk to the big guy, if I could. I’m worried about Walter. I’ve never met him, but after talking to him for weeks, I feel like I know the bloke. I’m sorry about panicking.” Her cheeks flushed as they moved onto the gangway that led to the boat.

Penelope put a hand on her arm. “Everything turned out all right.”

He pulled his keycard out. It was everything to the ship—key, passport, credit card.

She nodded and went silent as they headed through security. The tourists were all talking about the terrible things that had happened at the church, but Damon didn’t engage them. Even Candice went silent as she handed over her card and was buzzed through. She waved as she headed up the stairs toward her room.

He and Penelope walked to the lifts and found themselves blissfully alone for a moment. Charlotte and Ian were heading to the cargo decks to pick up the package. The interrogation could be a long process.

It would be the perfect time to hold her tight and reassure himself that she was alive and all right, but she stepped away from him. He pushed the button for nine.

“I won’t let you punish me. I know I didn’t do exactly what you said, but you can’t expect that I would allow you to do that to me.” She stared straight ahead at the ridiculously ornamental doors to the lift.

“Of course.” He stood to the opposite side, not wanting her to think he was going to attack her. Punishment in D/s was consensual despite the meaning of the word. The submissive had to allow herself to be corrected or it was abuse, and he had no intention of abusing her. He’d been too rough, gone too far, and now she would lock away that part of herself that he could have freed had he not been such a ham-handed idiot.

She sniffled though she still didn’t turn his way. “I’ll be honest, Damon. I didn’t expect that of you.”

She shouldn’t have expected anything from him at all. He shrugged slightly. “It happens all the time at The Garden.” She should truly understand how rough he could be. “I’ve done it to submissives before.”

The door opened and he allowed her to walk out first. She moved with stiff accuracy. “Well, it’s no wonder you don’t have a full-time sub. I suspect they don’t like to be shared in such a manner.”

There were so many reasons he’d never had a full-time sub, the chief one being he’d never had one move him the way Penelope did. “It’s common enough. Jane enjoyed it. She thought it was fun. She would close her eyes and try to figure out which Dom was spanking her. I’ll be honest. I wasn’t going to go through with it. It was a stupid thing to say. I tried to come up with ways to let them spank you that didn’t involve touching you at all. How silly is that?”

She stopped. “Spanking?”

He shook his head, reaching for the keycard again. At least the operation would be over soon. He could get Penelope off the boat at their next port. He wouldn’t have to lie next to her at night and wonder where he’d gone wrong. “Like I said, it was stupid of me. I was very angry. No. I was scared. I was scared of losing you so I threatened you with the worse thing I could think of.”

“Allowing other Doms to spank me.” She seemed to struggle with the words as though they didn’t fit properly in her mouth.

“I wouldn’t have.” He had no idea what to say to her. How was he supposed to tell her how much he was going to miss her? How much he wanted her to stay with him? How much he regretted not being the right kind of man for her?

In the end, he simply turned and started down the hall. The ship would be moving again soon, and he had preparations to make. He needed to think things through. Bennett had to be found, and the Aussie was the only connection they had now.

Unfortunately, Aussies weren’t known for being gentle, cooperative souls.

“Damon?” Penelope was a good ten feet behind him.

“Come along. We need to get ready.” He frowned her way as she stood there. “I won’t touch you, Penelope. You have my word. You might think very little of me, but I won’t hurt you again.”

“Damon, it’s not that,” she began.

A couple of stewards walked through the narrow hallways, shoulder to shoulder, interrupting whatever Penelope might have said.

“Did you just see that? What the hell?” the taller of the two asked.

“I have no idea, man. I’m keeping my eyes closed until this cruise is done. These people are freaks.” He flushed when he realized they weren’t alone. “Evening, sir.”

Damon nodded and allowed them to move by and then he saw what they were complaining about.

Ian Taggart had the big Aussie gagged, his hands behind his back and his shirt off. Charlotte walked next to him, a crop in her hand.

“Bad sub. You are a bad, bad sub and there will be punishment. You never talk to your mistress that way.” She slapped his ass with the crop.

Carter’s head came up, and he looked Charlotte’s way. He seemed to be trying to talk around the bright red ball gag that was strapped to his mouth. He struggled, moving his shoulders hard and to the right, trying to buck Taggart off him.

“You need some help with that one, Tag?” It was a good excuse to end the painful conversation with Penelope. He hurried down the hall, but noticed Carter’s head was back up.

He made some incomprehensible sounds.

Charlotte leaned over. “We’ll get it off you as soon as we make it to the cabin. It’s going to be okay, Mr. Carter. And besides, I’m having fun playing the mistress.”

She lightly tapped his rear with the crop.

“Don’t get used to it. You’re going to be the one taking the crop tonight, Mrs. Taggart. Get his other side, Knight. He’s a heavy son of a bitch.” Taggart hauled him back up.

Damon moved to Carter’s right, but he seemed to cooperate a bit more. His feet didn’t drag now and he stood straight, walking along.

Penelope moved to get the door to their cabin open. She held it while they managed to get Carter inside.

“This is what the world is like in my dreams,” Tag said with a smile on his face. “An all D/s world where it’s perfectly normal for an almost seven-foot dude to get his ass cropped by a Domme. Wouldn’t everything just be better this way?”

Charlotte shut and locked the door. “I’m sure it would be better for you, babe. I, on the other hand, like wearing clothes from time to time. Don’t laugh. You know I do. And if you had your way, we’d all just run around naked.”

Damon did see a couple of flaws in Tag’s plan, though Penelope always being naked and available for him was a tempting idea. But they had bigger things to deal with than Tag’s dream world.

Of course, he likely wouldn’t see her naked again.

Carter slumped to the couch.

“Damon? Can I talk to you?” Penelope caught up to him.

He wanted to avoid “the talk.” She seemed ready to finally give him the chat where she told him never to touch her again. Thank god he had a job to do.

“Later. It has to wait.” He turned his attention back to their guest.

It was time to lay his cards on the table and figure out if he had a winning hand. He looked down at Carter, though not far. Even sitting the man was as tall as a lot of men standing.