Savage Hearts (3 page)
It was not a normal bar.
There were metal rings on this bar. Embedded in it. The sorts of rings you’d attach things to. Things like rope or chains or…
She was staring.
“Are those for what I think they’re for?” she asked.
“And then some.”
Cate bit her lip to conceal a smile. She felt hot. She felt exposed. She’d never told anyone but Jason, in a moment of incredibly poor judgment, about her interest in BDSM. She’d never trusted anyone with that part of her. And yet here she was, getting worked up at the sight of restraints in front of the mystery man.
“Look at me,” the man said.
She did. Jesus. He took her breath away.
“Why is this your first time?”
Cate blinked.
“What?”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he said, “Why is this your first time?”
“I don’t…” She lied. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“Yes you do,” he said. “You know the reaction you’re having right now.”
Oh, how is that fair.
For just a moment she forgot herself. She stared at that ring and her mind fell away, down a rabbit hole of sexual fantasies, all of them at once…
Cate licked her lips. “I’m sure many people react to these things the first time they see them.”
It would be wrong to say she was proud of her demeanor as she said those words. It was more that she was surprised. Because she’d said that in a way that felt confident, sure, strong—not things she associated with the parts of herself that surfed BDSM sites late at night with a glass of wine by her side, half afraid of what it meant or who might find out.
“It’s not the first time you’ve seen them though,” Norse god said.
Now
she blushed.
“How on earth…” she muttered.
“You get to know the signs,” he said.
He wasn’t doing anything behind the bar. Just standing there, leaning on his powerful arms, his big hands splayed out in front of her. They looked strong. Didn’t he have work to do?
“How do you know I’m not just scared?” she asked.
“I’ve seen you scared already,” he said. “This isn’t that.”
She forced herself to meet his eyes. It was true. This man she didn’t know already knew more about her than people who’d known her since she was a kid. It seemed like there was no point in hiding, in lying, in trying to scramble together some sort of protection. He already knew.
Cate waited for the panic. When it didn’t come, she felt her heart speed up. She was feeling…
“Answer the question,” the man said. “Why is it your first time in a place like this?”
“There was nobody for me to go with,” she heard herself say.
He looked at her, letting his eyes roam. He grinned, showing off one dimple, and leaned closer.
“That’s not the only reason.”
“You know this could be creepy, right? It
should
be creepy.
You asking me these personal questions?
We don’t even know each other.”
“And yet you’re still talking to me.”
“I’m having a weird day.”
He smiled, and Cate found herself smiling with him. So far nothingdth far no about today had seemed normal, like the day itself existed outside of the usual rules. Maybe it was just Volare itself that existed outside of the usual rules. Definitely nothing about this conversation was normal. Nothing about how it made her feel, how she felt weirdly…not uninhibited, but somehow understood, maybe? Safe. Which was insane. It made no sense. Unless this was just the effect of Volare, of being around people—a person—
who
she knew understood this one particular thing. Still, she should be on high alert.
And yet…
“Fine,” she said, twisting the empty water glass on the shiny black bar. “I just…I suppose I’ve been afraid.”
Jesus H. Skinny-Dipping Christ.
She’d actually admitted that she was interested in this place, albeit implicitly, to another living, breathing human being, one who wasn’t Jason bullying it out of her. Cate stared at the man across from her, her shoulders tense, her breathing getting shallow, weak. She’d just exposed herself to this person, made
herself
vulnerable. She’d just given him a weapon to use against her.
In Cate’s experience, that was always, always a mistake.
He watched her. Like he had outside, when she literally trembled against him in fear, he studied her. Cate could feel his eyes on her, could feel the intensity of that gaze, and wondered where it came from—this stranger, what did he see? And why did he care?
“That’s not right,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t have to be afraid.”
She scoffed. “There are lots of things that shouldn’t be true that get priority over my issues with…that,” she said, looking at the ring again. “Child poverty, homelessness, war crimes—”
“Stop that.”
She was startled. “
Excuse
me?”
“Stop deflecting.”
“Stop telling me what to do.”
He inhaled deeply, his hands arching against the surface of the bar as though he were trying to dig his fingers into it. Jesus. What those hands could do…
“If I told you what to do,” he said, “you’d like it.”
Cate’s breath hitched. Her hands stopped toying with the glass. Her whole body focused on what he’d just said, and the way he’d looked at her as he said it.
Was there even a point in denying the truth?
How crazy was she right now, this far outside of her comfort zone?
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she said.
“Not from where I’m standing.”
Cate laughed, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the bar, where she saw herself looking all glowing and bright eyed. She’d never been flirted with so brazenly.
So effectively.
They taught some good tricks in Asgard.
The Norse god gave her a playful frown and leaned back so his shirt rode up above the waist of his jeans. Cate caught a glimpse of darker blond hair, just trailing down…
“So what’s the problem, Cate?” he asked.
Yup
. He’d seen her looking. Totally.
“Nothing, not inherently, it’s just…” She swallowed. “For some people, not for everyone, but for some people, it could be… For people who have problems, I mean, who have…maybe for them it’s not a good idea.”
Cate listened to the sound of her voice and was a little bit horrified.
There was a pause.
“Jesus, I can’t believe I just said that,” Cate said.
The man cracked a golden smile and laughed, a deep, warm sound that made Cate feel wrapped up in…something. She didn’t know what. She didn’t know how he seemed so totally self-assured.
“Of course you said it,” he said. “Because it was the truth and I asked you a question.”
“Do you have super bartending powers of perception? Do you do this with everyone?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Not with anyone. Just you.”
Cate laughed. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He smiled again. “Just you.”
“Well, I’ve never said that to anyone before.”
“You didn’t even say it.”
Cate tensed. The man was on the other side of the bar, but somehow he felt close, very close, like he had at the window. She felt penned in, overwhelmed. Maybe it was the way those blue eyes didn’t seem to look at anything else. She watched him lean in further, so he was almost on top of her.
“You’re afraid it’s abusive,” he said.
Her
head shot
up, her eyes opened as wide as they’d ever been.
“That’s not what I said.”
He ignored her.
“Abuse,” he said, his ice blue eyes boring holes in her, “is about taking something from someone that they don’t want to give. This is giving somethiwhaving song back. Abuse is the misuse of power. This is the perfect use of power. Abuse would be about making you feel small so that I feel big.”
He put one large finger through the ring embedded in the bar, and leaned forward.
“If I tied you to this bar, stripped you, spread you, and fucked you, it would be about making you feel incredible.”
Cate felt her mouth fall open.
She couldn’t speak.
Possibly she would never speak again.
“With your consent, of course,” the man said, grinning. “Very particular about that.”
“Of course,” Cate whispered.
There was a silence. His eyes never left hers, not in the entire geological era that it took for her ability to form coherent thoughts to return.
“That was…very descriptive,” she finally said. “But it missed my point.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
She shivered.
“I don’t think it’s abuse, what anyone else wants, or what they do,” she said. “Just…I’m afraid that for me, the reasons
why
I might want…certain things…”
She couldn’t finish, which annoyed the crap out of her. She had never said that aloud, not even to herself. And now she’d sort of almost told this complete stranger, this man whom now she was doubly sure she could never, ever see again. Why had she told him? Because he’d protected her when she was afraid? Because he looked like he already knew?
Because somehow those pale eyes looked like they understood.
Oh God, those were the dumbest reasons for trusting some stranger, especially for trusting him more than she’d ever trusted another human being.
Just so, so dumb.
“You’re afraid of your reasons,” he said.
“Hypothetically, yes,” she said.
“That’s a dumbass excuse.” He flashed a wicked smile at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Some things don’t have reasons,” he said, his hand moving across the bar to take the glass from her hand. “They just are. Even if they did, does it matter? You are what you are. And you don’t seem like the kind of woman to let something that scares you get in the way of what you want.”
“I’m not,” she said sharply.
He touched her.
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Just his hand briefly over hers, the pads of his fingers grazing her skin before he took the glass.
The slightest touch, but it arced through her, the charge between them briefly paralyzing her, before setting something in her core alight.
She jerked her hand back and stared at him.
Cate knew she should be freaked out in this moment. She’d just revealed more about herself to this sexy bartender than she’d ever revealed to anyone, really. She should be running for the goddamn hills. But all she could actually do was marvel at what it felt like to finally tell someone and be understood. She felt…elated. She’d told him, more or less, about a secret part of who she really was, and it hadn’t ended in disaster. Inner Cate had been let out for a spin, and it hadn’t destroyed her.